


Faces

by 1lifeisbechloe



Series: Flight Risk [1]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: DJ!Beca, Enemies With Benefits, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Friends With Benefits, artsy!Chloe, grumpy!beca, roommate au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:38:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 259,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lifeisbechloe/pseuds/1lifeisbechloe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beca is even grumpier than usual and Chloe wants her to join the Bellas. They end up making a rather interesting deal..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's on a Thursday afternoon you're first met with your new roommate. You've just got back to your dorm after an intense last class of English Lit before the exams start next week and the Bellas practice doesn't start until later today, so you decided you've earned yourself a little nap. Your head had just hit the pillow when a small brunette comes barging into your room. You had gotten the e-mail regarding some new students having to bunk with people who had a room of their own, but since they were arriving last Monday, you had kind of had your mind set of having this dorm to yourself for another few weeks.

The girl's wearing black, tight pants, a red shirt and a grey vest that covers not much skin at all, leaving you to stare at her bare shoulders a second too long. You snap yourself out of it, however, and your eyes trace down towards the black band around her right wrist. You wonder if it's leather as you scan her other accessories; the piece of elastic around her left wrist and the spikes in her ears that have you wondering if they feel heavy on the girl. Her auburn locks are caught between her neck and the black headphones she has thrown around her, and you think you even spot a small tattoo on her lower arm, that you can't see well enough to make out what exactly it is.

You greet her with your usual enthusiasm that comes out in a high-pitched tone that Aubrey always tells you remind her of those beats in dubstep music, although she gets mad at you when you call it ' _music_ '. Instead of saying hi, asking for your name and making small talk -like a normal person would-, this girl doesn't even spare you a glance and the loud sigh she lets out feels more aimed at you than at the heavy bag she throws on her bed.

The bag is navy green and even reminds you of those bags army men carry on their backs when they return home. (You've seen The Hurt Locker; that's basically a documentary, right?) She's carrying two more items; one looks like it contains a laptop and the other you couldn't possible make out what it holds.

"I'm Chloe!" You tell her, but it's obvious she's not listening, going through her biggest bag angrily until she's apparently found the item she was looking and then, grabbing the two briefcases and whatever she needed out of her bag.

As fast as she came in, she's out the door again.

You're not sure what to think. But in the middle of dance practice that day, you catch yourself thinking about that tattoo on her arm, wondering as to what it could be.

* * *

The second time you see her is on Sunday. You agreed to go to the Trembles party the night before and, along with most of the night, you can't remember why you went. By the time you've woken and got yourself cleaned and dressed, it's close to two p.m. and you walk back to your dorm. You find her asleep on her bed, on top of her blanket and fully clothed. You wonder if she was out last night, and where she slept, because you left for the shower stalls about an hour and a half ago and she was definitely not in the room by then. Did she stay out this long? Or did she sleep somewhere else? That's more likely, because she hasn't slept in your shared room up until now. That you know of. Her bed was kind of a mess Friday when you got back from dinner with Stacie, and you left your room early for class that day. So maybe she always comes in around noon. You can definitely see her as an afternoon sleeper.

And sleeping she can, because when you get back from getting groceries around five, she hasn't moved an inch from the position you found her in earlier today and if she wasn't snoring so loudly, you'd think about checking her pulse to see if she was still alive. You turn on the radio and start to sing along to the, one of many, new Justin Bieber song while preparing a cup of tea for yourself. You hear the girl growl from her bed and you can see from the corner of your eyes how her arms reach into the air around her to stretch.

"Do you have to be so loud?!"

It's the first words she's spoken to you since her arrival on Thursday and you wonder if her voice is always so low and raw. You wouldn't really mind if it was.

"Wakey-wake, sleepyhead. It's almost evening." The giggle that escapes your mouth from the sight of her bed-hair is non-intentional, but it makes her look at you and you reckon it's worth it, then. The dark lines around her eyes are perfect and untouched, making her seem more intimidating than you think she actually is. "Late night?" You ask her. No answer. "You want any?" You say as you pour the hot water into your cup. You think you hear a mumbled rejection as she heads into the walk-in closet to change. You pour her some, anyway.

"What is this, I told you 'no'!" She doesn't take the cup from your reached out hand, yet death stares at you, eyebrows low and her lips pressed together. You think to yourself, if she wasn't 5"1, maybe you'd be a little bit afraid of her right now.

"It's good for your throat." You give her one of your friendly smiles and put the cup down. You can tell by her facial expression she won't take the drink from you. "I never actually got your name."

"It's 'cause I didn't tell you."

You laugh at that and she looks at you funny, not understanding what's so hilarious about how everything about her screams "keep out!", but there's something about her that you haven't quite figured out yet, something that's inviting you in. Maybe it's all in your head, because when you take a seat next to her on her bed, she jumps up and seems like a deer caught in headlights. You think you hear the word 'dude' in a way that would insinuate you've assaulted her, so you apologize and say "-I just thought, since we're gonna be _roommies_ for at least the rest of the year, we should get to know each other." The girl's nose is wrinkled as if she's just tasted something disgusting, and you think it might have been the word 'roommies' that did that to her.

"Let's just hope I won't be here for that long." And with an excessive roll of her eyes while grabbing her two bags again, she's out the door, leaving you rather uncomfortable on her bed.

* * *

Aubrey comes over that night to discuss routines and techniques, but your mind is with your new roommate as you wonder why she would say that she wouldn't be here for the rest of the year. Did she mean with you? In this room? Or this school? Was she failing class? It could be, because you're pretty sure she hasn't even set foot on campus in the few days she's been here. And midterms start this week. How will she even-

"Chloe!" Aubrey's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you have to blink a few times to be able to focus your full attention on her. "What's going on? You've been off for a few days now."

Of course Aubrey notices every little thing. You've been best friends since, pretty much, pre-school, since your moms are as close as can be, you were pretty much appointed to each other growing up. It's a good thing Aubrey is an amazing person and friend. "No, I've just been thinking about my new roommate."

"Still nameless?"

You nod and explain what happened today. You express your worries about where she sleeps at night and why she won't tell you anything about her. You drift off in conversation and somehow reach the fact that she has a tattoo, to which Aubrey jumps up, firmly states that "Tattoos are for prisoners, Chloe!" and starts to make her way to the stranger's side of the room. You follow your best friend, but slap her hand away when she reaches for the bag that lays half-open on the bed.

"What are you doing?" You know there's no way to stop Aubrey once she has an idea in her head, but you like to think you always try and stop her when it's a stupid plan. She tells you she has the right to know if the girl that has access to your room is a convicted felon who murders people at night, and even though it sounds ridiculous, _truly ridiculous_ , Aubrey has a way of convincing people. You justify agreeing to go through someone's personal stuff by reminding yourself that you're a natural curious and nosy person, but when the first item Aubrey pulls out is a set of headphones, you know this is crazy. The girl is just distant and, well, angry at the world for whatever reason. But that doesn't make her a convict. "Aub, we can't do this."

The words have just left your lips when the door's thrown open (really, what's with all the anger towards doors?) and the tiny brunette swings inside. You're paralyzed in your place as you await those awful seconds that it takes your new roommate to realize what's going on and when her eyes reach yours, you feel like digging a hole and disappearing into the inner depths of this earth. You're pretty sure her eyes couldn't possibly shrink any more in confusion when she finds you with her headphones in your hand, Aubrey's hand is slowly exiting her bag and you can feel your heart twisting as the girl is obviously lost for words. Her jaw unlocks every few seconds she attempts to form words, you can tell by the way her bottom lip trembles, but then it locks again and, you think, if she was a cartoon character, this would be the second before steam blows out of her ears and her head turns red and grows three sizes.

"What the fuck?!"

That's an appropriate reaction.

"What. The. **_Fuck_**!"

Still, appropriate.

"Get the fuck away from my stuff!"

She snaps the headphones out of your grip and her fingers hit your wrist for a second, sending an electric wave through your spine that reminds you to stand up straight. You're stuck for a moment, paralyzed between what to do and why her touch felt so good and why your stomach is turning in knots and why you'd steal more of her stuff just to feel her touch again. You free yourself from the thoughts, because there's arguing going on behind you and when you turn to face both girls, the smaller one of the two is talking mostly in curse words and threats. Your best friend doesn't bow down, however, and it's like watching fuel getting thrown onto fire. Rage is pouring out of your new roommate's eyes and her fists are clenched besides her body, and you can tell she's trying to hold herself back from jumping at Aubrey's throat. Although you can slowly see her losing the grip she has on herself, and you know your best friend won't ever give in, so you do the only thing you can think of.

"Aub, just go, please." You're facing her, standing in between the two and you try to ignore the hot breath you feel in the back of your neck. Aubrey looks at you and you can tell she's mad at you for not choosing her side. Even though that's totally not what you're doing. She's your best friend, of course you would stand by her. That is, if she has a reasonable point and let's be fair, you both violated numerous roommate rules here. The small girl, whose name you still don't know, is in the right here, so you can't particularly ask her to leave. Also, this is her room and you doubt she'd leave if you asked. "Aubrey, please." You beg, knowing this situation isn't gonna resolve into anything good if you don't get one of them out of this room.

Your hands stay on her upper arms as Aubrey slowly backs out of the room, never breaking eye contact with the girl behind you. She tells you that this reaction is the one of someone who has a lot to hide, and then she's out. You sigh against the door, wrongfully thinking the tension is cleared now.

"I can **_not_** believe you."

"I was trying to stop her!" You yell back and take a few steps towards her to show her you're not scared of her. You don't know why her words have offended you. You just need her to know it wasn't your idea to search her bag. You want to explain, but words aren't leaving your mouth. The only thing you can do is stare at the girl's eyes and how they are a much darker shade than when you saw her before.

"Of course you fucking were." The girl scoffs and turns her head towards her bag, stuffing the headphones back in.

"Can you not curse so much?" You know you're not really in a place to make demands, but you don't like it when people curse. It makes you feel small and vulnerable.

"Oh, you don't like it when I fucking curse? You want me to stop fucking cursing?!"

_Okay, so she doesn't really have a wide vocabulary when it comes to curse words._ "I understand you're mad, but we didn't mean to-"

"You didn't **_mean_** to?!"

She's turned back to face you and you're a lot closer to her now than you've planned, but she steps in and you can feel the heat coming from her body, wondering for a split second what it would be like to feel that heat directly onto yours. You stutter, and your eyes linger at the girl's lips.

"You didn't fucking **_mean_** to search my bag? 'Cause that's what it looked like!"

She's stepped closer and you stepped back, involuntarily, knowing you wouldn't be able to breathe if you let her get any closer.

"With my fucking personal shit in your hands-"

She steps forward, you step back.

"-and your friend-"

Another step forward, another step back.

"-calling me a damn criminal!"

And another.

And then you feel the doorknob poking into your back and you shift slightly to the side, resting weakly against the wall. The girl's eyes are full of fury and passion and yours are shifting between looking at them and her lips. The way she spits out the words, how her wet lips are glistering in the bad lighting of the room and the way they curl after every bad word draw your attention. You try not to be so obvious, but you are. You're really obviously staring at her, hungrily. You make a mental note to kick yourself for this later, because you're supposed to be explaining yourself to this girl, apologizing, anything besides imagining how those teeth could easily rip off your clothes and leave marks on your body that would be hard to cover up.

"You don't got anything to say for yourself?!"

She's still angry, but it looks like maybe she's softening up. "She's just- It's, because we didn't even know your name." _Good going, Beale. That's a perfectly clear sentence.._

"My name is Beca, okay. Is that your typical murderer's name? Does that tell you anything about me that you wanted to know?!"

Her hands move through her hair and then turn into fists right in front of your face. (Actually right in front of her own, but you're pretty close to each other at this point.) You can tell she's angry, really angry, and she's trying to get a grip on herself. Then she rests her hands against either side of you onto the wall and, for someone who jumped up when you sat down a feet away from them, this girl is suddenly not bothered by personal space anymore. You wonder for a split second if she's either going to hurt you or kiss you.

"It's nice to meet you, Beca." You breathe out slow, your voice sounding needy and husky as you lock your eyes on hers. She doesn't look away and, it's not like that says anything. You can't read her facial expressions –although thus far you've only been introduced to 'angry' and that's not a very hard guess to make-, but you see something different right now. Something you can't quite describe, but her face softens.

Before you can make anything else out of it, Beca throws the door open next to you and with a final "fucking weirdo", she's gone again. It's only then that you realize you've been holding your breath this entire time.

* * *

During the next week, nothing changes much from how the days were after Beca moved in. You barely see her, and when you do, she tries to make sure you can't communicate with her. When there's a second where she's not wearing her headphones, which is next to never, you ask her about her day or how her midterms went, assuming she went to make them. You don't know, because she just simply ignores you without even making eye contact. One time, after you got back from your Russian Lit test, she's lying on her bed, feet on the bag that is still unpacked. You just greet her happily, but she mumbles something and then she's out the door.

_Rude._

You don't know why you're even trying at this point. You just want to be friends with this girl. Or at least know what she studies and where she goes every night. Know the basic things. You don't really know why that's important to you. With the behavior she's been showing you this past week, you wouldn't be surprised to find she's in a cult or something.

But you still want to know. Maybe because she's such a mystery. You don't know anything about this girl, literally nothing, yet you've never been more excited to see a person than when she bursts into your shared room.

You're not attracted to her. God, no. That would be stupid. You just wanna figure her out. That's all.

* * *

It's exactly a week after your weird, angry fight/sexy stare session that you see her again and she doesn't run straight out the room. You're just back from your evening jog and she's lying on her bed with her laptop on her lap and, _shocker_ , headphones on. You unplug your own earphones and flop down on your bed, untying your shoelaces while finishing your water bottle that you brought along with you. You watch her carelessly and for a first, she returns your gaze, just as you throw your sweaty shirt over your head. You see her pupils grow in shock and you wink before losing your pants as well and heading into your closet to find something clean. When you get back to the living room/bed room/kitchen (it's a small dorm), you see Beca's cheeks are flustered and you can't help the grin that grows on your face.

_She is so cute_. (You know, when she's not a huge pain in the ass.)

You walk around the room, trying to figure out which approach you're going with today in order to get her to talk to you when you notice something. Her hands are running through her hair angrily like that time when she stood so close to you, and then they shake over the keyboard, fingers interlacing and then back to shaking.

Something is wrong, you think.

"God. Fucking. Damn it." Beca grins and you can practically feel the frustration coming from her mouth.

Something is wrong, you know.

"Everything okay?" You ask from the kitchen. She doesn't respond and, _yeah_ , the headphones. Of course. She can't see you trying to connect with her, although you doubt that would make a change. You've stood right in front of her while speaking and her eyes were actually _on your lips_ (even though you try not to think of that too much) and you knew she could tell you were trying to make conversation, and she just walked right past you.

But right now you're not just gonna go on with your day. The girl seems irritated and maybe even upset. Your curiosity and general instinct to care for another human being kick in and before you know it you're next to her bed and removing her headphones from her head.

She physically jumps a few centimeters up from her bed, hits her laptop shut, and makes herself small against the wall, knees pulled up to her chest and her arms tightly against her body. You take a step back instantly, wondering what you've done wrong to cause every muscle in her body to tense. She's looking at you in shock, eyes wide and you think you've discovered a new face, because this is definitely not 'angry', but you're also not sure what it then is.

"I'm sorry." You stumble, hands open to show her you're not a threat.

She turns away from you then, eyes on her closed laptop and you see her taking a short, deep breath in through her nose, her jaw clenches at the same time she swallows away a lump in her throat and you know what's gonna come.

"When the fuck are you gonna stop touching my stuff?"

It's not even near the loudest you've ever heard her spit words at you, but the sudden change in faces takes you by surprise and you're not sure what you should do in this situation.

"You know,-" She's standing now, an angry smile on her lips and, as if you're working on autopilot, you take a step back in the same direction you did that first time. "-you are just about the rudest person I have ever met."

It's been the same dance as last week, she took steps while talking, you've been backing up and you know it's not far until you're standing with your back against that wall again. But then the words she's said reach your brain and instead of taking that final step, you stop in your tracks and Beca almost crashes into you.

" ** _I_** am rude?!" You spit back. No one has ever called you rude and you don't think you like it very much. You might be a lot of things, but rude? No. " _You_ are calling _me_ rude?!"

She, however, doesn't step back when you move forward and you're barely touching, but it still makes your heart skip a beat. (You tell yourself it's because she's making you angry and you're never angry.) She looks smug and you have never been so insulted in your life.

"Yeah, you can't just do whatever you want."

"There was something wrong, I was just being a decent person, wanting to help."

"You don't just invade people's privacy like that, I know that's maybe news for you." She takes a small step back at that, but only to raise her hands in a mocking way when she tells you that must be something you've never heard before.

The hint at what you and Aubrey did last week stings. "I apologized for that." You close the gap between the two of you that she just opened.

"Oh, well, that makes it all better. Thank you."

It's so sarcastic, it's basically dripping off her words. "Why don't you just walk away then? You seem really good at that." You're not used to people hurting you, and the fact that it makes you come to the conclusion that you're the kind of person who would hurt someone back for it, disgusts you. You hate that she's putting you in this position.

Her nose wrinkles and you think her teeth might start falling out if she grins them together any harder. "I walk away because you're an annoying piece of shit who can't take a hint." She tells you, and you think the words would hurt if she didn't move her face so close to yours.

Seriously, your foreheads are almost touching and your gaze flickers once again to her lips. _God, you have to stop being so obvious_.

But maybe that's what did the trick, because suddenly her lips are on yours and you're not sure who connected them, but you can't bring yourself to care right now.

You were right about how her teeth could probably cut, because you feel your bottom lip bleeding only a few seconds after whomever closed the gap. Her tongue moves in and out of your mouth quick and fast, giving you no room to battle her for dominance. It's pretty clear she's still mad at you, you can tell by the way she shoves you until your body is once again pressed against the wall. You get pushed every time you try to lean into her touch and, maybe that's why you keep moving forward.

Her mouth moves from your lips to your neck and you keep your bottom lip between your teeth, careful not to let any moans escape. Of course, that was a nice idea, but when she suddenly bites hard at your pulse point, you lose control of your body and you slam your head back against the wall, a heavy sigh coming from the back of your throat. You're glad she doesn't stop right there and then, ( _because, what are we even doing here?)_ but instead she grabs at your chest and squeezes firmly, then massaging your boobs with two hands. You tell yourself that the gasp you let out is because of your body impacting the wall again, but when she starts to pinch your nipples through your shirt and the same sound exits your throat, you know you're fucked.

"I can take a hint." _Why are you talking right now?_ "I just want us to get along." _Seriously, her mouth is working its way down your body, stop talking, Beale._ "I am a very good friend, Beca."

Not to your surprise, the smaller girl's lips leave your body and you open your eyes to see her still angry pupils drilling holes into your face. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?!" She asks you before her lips connect to yours again, her teeth bumping into yours and you're not sure you're supposed to be smiling at that. "Oh, you think it's funny?" She asks you while capturing your mouth. It kind of makes you smile even more. "You are by far-" You interrupt her by pushing your tongue down her throat and it makes her whimper just enough for you to hear.

She pushes you into the wall after that, obviously annoyed you did that. And you just smirk at her, teasing her, challenging her to get your bodies back together. The space between you two probably hurts her more than you, you think, because after spitting out the next bit of her started sentence "-the most irritating,-" she kisses you again with her hand wrapped around your neck, not barely putting enough force on her hand to hurt you, but enough to keep you in place. You try to get her to move in closer, but instead she moves away from you again, keeping the hand around your neck and scanning your body. "-obnoxious human being I have ever had the displeasure of meeting." Her eyes meet yours and they're still shrank, her eyebrows low as if she's disgusted by you, and her jaw clenched. If she stood like that a second longer, you would have actually believed her words. But she throws her shirt off of her body in a single action and then she's back against you again. You can feel her toned abs pressed against your stomach, and a thigh between your legs that you unwittingly, but willingly, start to ride.

Usually, when you engage in sexual activities, you are the one who's in control, no matter the gender of your partner. There's a difference though, because girls allow you to take control, while guys are surprised when you move on top of them and tell them what to do. And people who identify with neither are overall quite excited about you being the dominant one. With Beca, it's different. She has neither of those reactions. She's not allowing you to take the lead at all. And it's making you embarrassingly excited. Really, though, _embarrassing_.

"Why am I annoying?" You pant when she finally moves her mouth to your neck, allowing you to breathe again. Beca groans and you think you hear a mumble about how you talk too _goddamn_ much. Well, at least it's something different from ' _fucking_ ' for a change.

She goes on until she reaches your collarbone, which turns a switch in your head that reminds you there are better places in this room to be pinned against and better spots to be kissed, so you throw your shirt over your head. Beca had to step back a little because of that move, but you expected her to move back in.

She doesn't.

She just looks at you, profoundly disturbing and weirdly proud as if she's just won first prize in something evil, like taking away the most candy bars from children. You wonder for a second if you're the child and she's the candy bar in this occasion. You move forward to close the gap between the two of you, but she grabs her shirt from the floor and throws it back on. "I have places to be." She says and you have never been more confused as she heads towards the door.

You jump in front of it, standing between her and the door, making sure she can't leave like last time, and you secretly hope she'll get mad at you for your move. "Oh, so you're just gonna leave now?" It sounds more desperate than you intended to, which you hate, because Beca is smirking at you and you just gonna slap it off. Or, you know, kiss it off. Whichever.

But Beca just smiles and moves past you out the door.

Leaving you high and, _well_ , definitely not dry.

_This roommate thing is going to be torture._

* * *

The next time you see Beca is the following day, because, of course, she didn't come back last night after your super casual make out party. You still don't know where she goes every night. Friday and Saturday nights, you can understand, but who goes out on a Sunday?

With midterms just ending, you have today off and, instead of doing what you should be doing, which is preparing for the next courses, of course all the Bellas are in your room, going over the routine again. Your show is Saturday night and somehow the girls can't decide on who should sing which part. They've been here all morning debating whether it's a good idea to sing The Sign again. Aubrey is the captain, so obviously she gets the bigger hand in the saying, but all the girls are for trying something new. You get it, because every little performance and gig you got this semester, The Bellas played that song. You've only known these new girls for a few weeks and they are already not getting along with you and Aubs. And that's just the singing. You get a headache just thinking about dance practice tonight. It's not like the new girls are bad at dancing, not at all. They just have a hard time following the routine. Stacie, for example, is a great dancer. You sometimes catch yourself staring at her, not in a creepy way, you're just admiring the way she can move her body. And Cynthia-Rose has some cool moves, she told you they have ' _swag_ ', but you're not sure what that means. However, it's not the way Aubrey wants the steps to be. So, to say the least, it's been hard on you to teach them the dance routine in the right way.

"New can be good, Bree." You whisper to your best friend when the other girls are lost in conversation. You don't want them to know you agree with them, because you and Aubrey are supposed to be a team. You are all supposed to be a team.

"Chloe, we are not gonna change everything a few days upfront!"

You guess she's right. Choosing a new song includes figuring out who sings what part again and not to mention the new dance material you have to come up with. Yeah, Aubrey is right. So you tell the girls and after some bickering, they give in and you are glad everyone's happy again. You hand everyone a sheet of the lyrics, as if they don't already know them, and you play the music.

You have to admit, it's not perfect.

A lot of the new girls are trying out things that are not written on that sheet, which pisses Aubrey off and you spend most time trying to calm everyone down. By the time you hit play for the seventh time, the girls are sounding better and Aubrey even lets it slip a few times when Fat Amy does whatever she wants, per usual. That girl is not to hold back.

They're halfway through the song when Beca barges in. She stops and scans your group of friends, eyeing Jessica and Ashley angrily that makes the two of them jump off your roommate's bed and hop on yours instead. The girl mumbles " _for fuck's sake_ " when her eyes reach Aubrey and then, with a shake off the head, lets herself fall onto her bed. Her face is buried in her pillow and her feet hang off the side. You check the time and see it's just past noon.

_Theory about her being an afternoon sleeper confirmed._

Beca lies like that for three and a half songs, but when you want to hit play for the twelfth time, you get hit in the face by a pillow that smells like her and- _okay you really shouldn't be having flashbacks of her shoving you into that wall and biting down your neck._

"If you play that song one more time, I can't be held accountable for my actions."

Aubrey is up on her feet, _of course she is_ , and Beca follows her brave.

"Aca-cuse me, but what's wrong with this song?"

"I'm pretty sure it died back in 1852."

"Music can't die. The punk look you're wearing however-"

Once again you have to step in between your best friend and your new roommate, pushing them both back into their own sides of the room and you're glad they don't resist.

"What the even are you guys doing, anyway?" Beca mumbles when she grabs her headphones and puts them on, seeming to not care about the answer. You give her one anyway.

"We are a close and talented group of girls who sing covers of songs, but without any instruments. It's all from our mouths."

Her eyebrows raise at that, so you assume she's heard you. She tells you she knows what an acapella group is and flops back onto her bed with music blasting through her headphones for everyone else to hear, too.

You get back to practicing, but somehow your eyes keep finding the small brunette and you're more interested in the music she's listening to than the one song you've been hearing on repeat for the past hour. You send the girls away after a little while, telling them you have some schoolwork to do and you'll meet them tonight for dance practice. Aubrey looks at you funny, probably noticing you're lying and you just want them to leave so you can talk to Beca, but she leaves, too, without questions asked.

The door closes behind them and you'd hoped Beca would lose the headphones and engage in a conversation, even if most of it is complaining about your taste in music or how terrible your friends are. But the girl just stays still on her bed, laptop on her lap and her wireless headphones on, loud. You kick yourself mentally for actually thinking she would be a normal human for once.

So you decide to take initiative again, like you usually do with people, Beca should be no exception. This time when you sit down on her bed, you take the very end of it next to her bag and you move slowly, careful not to startle her again, and to your surprise, she doesn't run away, but the way she death glares at you isn't much of an improvement either. You hit at her leg to take off the headphones and she scoffs mockingly, ignoring you and continuing to work on something on her laptop.

Of course, she just can't make things easy.

"Hey, what are you doing?" You feel a bit awkward, talking to someone you know can't hear you. So you tap her leg lightly again and her eyes dart to yours.

She hits her headphones back and snaps "What?!" You feel yourself shrink three sizes, but you regain yourself. You are not the one someone can break with a simple word.

"I was just thinking maybe we can talk. About, some things." You hint, but you're not sure at what. At last night? At Aubrey? You just know you wanna talk to her.

"For God's sake!" Beca spits out you can't say that shocks you anymore. "And you wonder why I'm never in this room. All you wanna do is talk, talk, talk."

"What's so wrong with t-"

"I'm not here to make friends, okay!"

You nod at that and sit back down on your own bed. You think you've tried enough for today.

* * *

A few hours later you're both still in the room. You don't think you've ever been in the girl's presence for this long, yet it doesn't feel as good as you figured it would. That has everything to do with your earlier conversation, if you can even call it that.

You had given up trying to get Beca to make eye contact with you after that. She's too into whatever was on her screen to see you staring right at her, and her music was too loud for you to even try and get her attention. Besides, you're supposed to leave her alone. At least for today. So, you figured you might as well take yourself up on the little lie you told the girls earlier and get to studying.

Except you can't get anything to stick to your memory. It's funny how you can read words, understand what they are telling you, and somehow they get lost on the way to your memory. Maybe it's because something else is running through your mind. Taking up every corner there that there's just no more room for anything else. You think about why she refuses to talk to you. Why she's so angry all the time. Why she's even in college if she's just going to sleep all through the classes. And you still have no idea where she goes at night. Your mind takes you to the fact that maybe she has a boyfriend or a girlfriend where she stays at, but you shake that thought off. You don't know why. Maybe because she kissed you last night and the idea of you being used to cheat with disgusts you. And then you're thinking about her lips again. It's inevitable, really. You've been thinking about that ever since she broke up the kiss. It's funny to you how they tasted like nachos, and her bottom lip was broken and dry, craving water as if she's been drinking too much alcohol for them to handle.

You probably would have thought about the way her mouth moved for the rest of the afternoon, had Beca not gotten up and slapped you out of your thoughts. She heads into the closet and your eyes follow her until she's back again, and before you can open your mouth to say, really anything, because you're Chloe Beale and you don't really have a filter, she mumbles something that you can't make out before throwing the door closed behind her. She had a towel and some clean clothes thrown over her arm, so you can guess what it is she's said.

Suddenly, your room is quiet. Well, it was already quiet, but it's really quiet now. Empty is a better word, maybe. It hasn't even been two whole weeks, but you don't remember what it was like having the room to yourself. How could you stand this silence? It's a dumb thing to think, because before today, you have only shared approximately ten minutes with Beca in this room together, so it's stupid. It's really stupid. But you've gotten used to her, still not fully unpacked, bag sitting on the end of her bed, the few pieces of clothing she has hanging in the closet and her black mug in the kitchen. (It's the only black thing in there, and of course it's Beca's. Everything else is yellow, or pink, or some other shiny color that you love.)

You jump to your feet and pace the room, thinking of a way to get your new roommate talking to you. She's quick to flee the room whenever you try, so you think about setting up a trap. Something she can't escape from. Not like, using ropes or anything. Just-

You can feel your mouth moving into a grin and your eyes feel ten times brighter at the idea you just got. You don't think it through and head down towards the shower stalls immediately.

You can try one more thing for the day until you call it quits.

* * *

When you've reached the right floor, it's rather empty, which makes sense, because it's a Monday afternoon, the day before the new courses begin. The last thing on anyone's mind right now is the way they smell. As you set foot on the tiled floors and make your way past the sinks, you hear something. It's soft and vulnerable, almost. "Singing?" You whisper to yourself. The voice is familiar yet unlike anything you've ever heard. With every step you come closer, the more certain you are that this is Beca. Singing. Your awfully, grumpy, rude roommate is singing. It almost fools you into thinking this is the voice of a nice, beautiful, decent human being. Well, she is kind of beautiful, you guess. On the outside. But none of the other things, which can also turn you ugly.

You've always hated rude people. That's the only thing you can't stand. You can understand a lot of ' _bad'_ emotions. Anger often means they're stressed and something triggered them to snap. Or in Beca's case, it's an obvious defense mechanism. Used to scare people off and not let anyone get too close. You reckon it's probably due to something in her past, and you would be lying if you said you didn't care to know exactly what it was that made her this way. While you're at it, you have the liars. People lie to either make themselves feel better or to protect the one they are lying to. It's not a good reason to lie, it's actually a pretty dumb one, but there is at least some reason behind it and you guess you can understand why someone would choose to make that decision. (You wouldn't, though. And just because you understand, doesn't mean you have to forgive someone who's lied to you. Tom slips into your mind, but Beca's voice echoing around the room keeps you grounded as you move along the stalls.)

To shorten things up, you can understand most things. You get why people make certain decisions and how that doesn't define them as a person. Everyone gets angry once in a while. Everyone lies. (You too, just now even, to your friends. But you would never lie about things that matter.) However, if you're rude, you've lost all respect on her side. It's just something you will never be able to understand. Why would someone be rude?

Beca was rude. When she ignored you on your first run in. The way she gazed over your friends as if they were infected with some kind of disease. The way she threw those abusive words at Aubrey. There was no need for that. And there was no reason to.

Beca was mostly rude when she called **_you_ ** rude. You still can't understand why she said that. Would she mean it?

Normally, you'd never even want to have anything to do with someone who is overall rude. But there's something about Beca that draws you in. You think that maybe she's like one of those complex puzzles your dad used to bring home with him back when you lived in Colorado with him and you spent the whole night figuring it out. (You always solved it.)

"You **_sing_**?!" Your hand was on the shower curtain before you realized what you were doing and those two words slipped between your lips in your usual high-pitched voice. Again, no filter. It doesn't even surprise you. You know yourself well enough to know you do most things out of spontaneity.

"Dude!" Her voice is louder than most times you heard her speak and you only got a peek of skin before the curtain is covering most her body. You smile because _of course_ she's the kind of person to cover up.

"You were totally singing! Titanium, right?"

"You know David Guetta?"

"Have I been living under a rock? Yeah, that song is my jam. My lady jam."

"Gross." Her nose pitches up and you can't help but think she looks adorable. "I thought Swedish bands were your jam?"

You don't quite get what she's trying to say, and it must show, because her head shakes one quick time and you even think you hear a stutter as she continues.

"Cause, Ace of Base is Swedish. The one that sings 'The Sign'?"

Yeah, she was definitely stuttering. "Oh." It's all you say and you just smirk at her. She's obviously out of her comfort zone and if you can get her to stutter after just one look, you're curious to see what else you can get away with.

But her face changes back into her usual, defensive one; eyebrows low, eyes small and her jaw locked. "You can get the fuck out now." She says calm. You wonder if she always uses the word 'fuck' so much, or if it's just because she knows you hate it.

"You sure know your music." You continue as if she never said anything. "Is that what you do? Do you study Music? You're totally in Arts and Culture, right?"

She turns your back on you and sighs heavily, her head resting against the tiles in front of her. "You come in here to ask me what I study?" She's still pretty calm, but her voice sounds annoyed. You are more interested however in the tattoo she has on her back. It's a painting of some flowers and it takes up her entire right shoulder blade. You think back to the first time you saw her and you're pretty convinced what you saw on her right arm was a tattoo after all. You wonder if she has more. Where she has more. If they hurt. Or if she liked the pain.

You shrug and look around the small stall as if you're not entirely sure why you came down here. (You aren't.)

"If I answer your fucking question, will you get the hell out?" She has turned back to face you and some droplets of her wet hair hit your face lightly. You don't flinch.

"No." You smile and you can tell she's getting angry. Her fists clench in the shower curtain and she's grinning her teeth together. _It is too cute_. "Maybe I would've taken that offer before I knew you could sing. Now, I want something else."

You think back to the first Trembles party you ever attended. You drank way too much and you made eye contact with some guy you never saw again after that night. It was the first time Aubrey said you had your 'predator smile' on. In the way you feel your lips curling, you know you're wearing it again.

"No." The girl in front of you states firmly, as if she knows what she's saying no to. "I will not join your little group of misfits and idiots, just because I can keep a tone and they can't."

_Okay, so maybe she does know._

Your face must show that you don't exactly know what to reply to that. You didn't think she could read you that easily. But she's raising her one eyebrow and tips her head in a proud and fulfilling way that disgusts you.

"Am I wrong?" She asks smirking.

"No, but you're not right either." Now she's the one confused and you get to look cocky. You take a confident step forward and if she could flee, she would. But she's trapped between the two walls and your body. "I said 'make a deal'. What kind of deal would it be if you didn't get anything out of it?"

This is the person you would recognize as yourself again. Confident. Taking control. Getting what you want. (You know you will.) You can even add sexy to that list, because the way your shirt leaves your body gets a gasp out of the girl in front of you. You're happy you decided to put on a bra this morning, because you don't just wanna give everything away right this second. You close in on her until your chests are pressed together, the curtain being the only thing in between you, and you bring your face next to hers.

"Unless you don't want to hear my offer?"

You think it sounds seductive and by the way you hear Beca swallow hard, you think it did the trick. You could easily move in now. Feel her again like you did that night. See if she tastes different this time. Or if she ate nachos again today. You wouldn't really care.

But you don't.

You wait.

It's hard, though. You didn't think it would be this hard to keep your hands to yourself. Maybe it's the fact that she's naked just behind that piece of plastic. Maybe it's because this is new and exciting. (It definitely has nothing to do with Beca as a person or that you might be attracted to her. Definitely not.)

"What's the offer?" She asks after at least a minute of silence. It's whispered. When you look up at her, you see her eyebrows are leveled at normal height, her pupils are dilated and her jaw isn't clenched. You can't really read this look, but you know one thing.

You won.

_You **totally** won._

Your lips connect first and then you're at her neck, her chest and before you can register anything that's happening, you're down on the ground in front of her. You can feel the water ruining your pants from the knees down, but Beca's hand is gripping your hair and, in this moment, you only care about the way she's panting and buckling her hips to rid your face.

In the short time you have known Beca, you've only seen a few different faces from her. The angry one more often than anything else. But there's also her face when she's just awake, which is usually around dinner time, where she rubs her eyes and her mouth opens and closes twice, as if she's at a wine tasting trying out a Chardonnay. (Although you don't really see her as the wine type.)

Then there's the face she has on when she listens to music and does whatever it is she does on that laptop. It's not even anything near a relaxed state, but it's the closest you've seen from her. Her eyes are super focused, and sometimes she closes them for a few seconds, her head bopping back and forth with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. When she opens them after that, it's like she's just figured out a cure for cancer. Her hands move faster than ever at that and you have asked yourself if maybe the only good thing she has in her life is music.

You thought that was your favorite 'Beca-face'. The one where she's probably most in her zone. But when you replace your mouth with your fingers and stand up in that cold shower stall, pushing your fingers inside her hard and feeling her walls clench around you, you've stood up just in time to watch a whole other face.

And, yeah, that music-face has nothing on this one.

"Now what?" She asks you when she's caught her breath and her heart isn't racing anymore.

"Now, we've got a Bellas' dance practice." You state proudly. You cannot wait to tell the girls this.

_(Well, not **all** of it. You'll just tell them half of the deal you just closed.)_

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>    
> "I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me." - Karese Burrows
> 
>  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys for all the nice words, multi-chap it is then ;) Just a quick hands up, from now on, I will have both Chloe's and Beca's POV in the chapter. I will seperate the two by using double horizontal lines.

 

Turns out the girls are not really excited about Beca joining The Bellas.

If, by _"girls"_ you mean _"Aubrey"_ and _"not really excited"_ you mean _"totally not on board **at all** "_.

"Aubs, she's great, just hear her out!"

"We're not really hiring right now." She told you while eying Beca.

You ignore your best friend, because the two of them just got off on the wrong foot and you know she'll be fine with it when she hears her sing. _Although she wouldn't straight out admit that._

You walk with Beca to the rest of the group and you explain to the girls that you're gonna let your new roommate sing a song and everyone can give their feedback on it. You know they will love Beca.

The girl has been silent from the moment you met her outside and you quickly wonder if she's still okay with it. You scan her body language and you watch her face. Her cheeks are slightly red and her jaw isn't locked, so you think she isn't that bad. She does, however, seem very uncomfortable, so you stand next to her and start doing the back-ups for 'The Sign'.

She looks angry then, but you just smile back at her and she sighs heavily with a roll of her eyes before she joins you with the lyrics.

You're maybe not a fair judge, but the two of you sound amazing. When the other girls cheer for you, you know you were right in your decision. You whisper some words to Beca and then you make your way over to your best friend.

"Chloe, we don't have room for her. She's too alternative for us."

"Just give her a chance, Aubs. I promise you, she'll behave."

She eyes you for a second and then turns her gaze at where Beca and the girls are talking. _You pray to God she's not cussing at someone._

"Fine. But if this goes wrong, it will be on you."

You flash her a huge smile and hug her tightly. "Thanks, Bree."

She waves you off and then you start with dance practice.

* * *

You find yourself staring at Beca a lot during practice. She's been looking at you, too. Every time she's done a lap and she passes you on the bottom of the bleachers, she tells you rude things, like; "I'm going to slit your throat after this goddamn practice" and "I knew I couldn't trust a redhead". Every time sounding more out of breath than the last. It makes you giggle and it's not until you see that Aubrey's looking at you while making her way over, that you decide to act like the professional you're supposed to be. This is a place of work, after all.

The routine you're going to perform on Saturday isn't of any difficult range, yet you can tell Beca has trouble catching on. You also think she has trouble with dancing at all, you can tell by the way she uses her hips, _or actually the lack of her using her hips_.

It's not much longer until she's bumping into girls and messing up their focus, and you really don't want to work with her in private, because you have got a lot of work to do for the group in order to make everything perfect. Yet when the girls are telling you to do exactly that, you kind of have no choice.

You tell her you're gonna work apart from the group for starters, and her face is yet another than you've ever seen before. She looks tired, but when you tell her what's happening, she nods a little too quick to be indifferent about this. This is not the same girl you saw a moments ago when she rolled her eyes at the idea of singing with you. She looks different now, eyes big as if she's actually listening to you, _which can't be right_ , her teeth together but her jaw isn't locked. You wonder if you'll be able to figure out what exactly this face means.

* * *

Practice is over before you know it and you think of keeping Beca here alone with you for a few more hours, but she looks exhausted and you're confident she'll have mastered the steps by the end of the week.

When you tell her when the next work out is, you get to see her angry face again. It turns quickly into her confused one, and you wonder how long she's gonna stare at you until she knows you are not in fact kidding. The shake of her head that follows and the way her lips purse just before she asks you a question, you rate as one of your favorite faces yet.

* * *

You clean up the gym and head back to your dorm. It's empty when you get there. You didn't think you'd outrun Beca _(she gets tired when she's just walking for crying out loud),_ but when you notice her two bags are gone, you know she's been here. She just left again.

_Why does that surprise you?_

You make some tea and spend the evening watching a new Netflix Original. By the time you've watched six episodes, you give up on your small roommate coming back for the night.

When your alarm goes off at six forty-five, the bed next to yours is still untouched.

* * *

You meet Aubrey at the Starbucks on campus first thing in the morning and she doesn't waste a minute getting to the point.

"We can't use her, she's terrible."

You gasp out your friend's name, because, _rude!_ Beca can sing better than anyone on the team and, yes, her steps need improvement, but you have full faith in the fact that she'll know them before Saturday.

"The other girls need your attention, too, Chloe. Yesterday when you were working with Beca, it was a disaster."

You know the other Bellas don't have the routine quite like it should be, but it's going to be fine. You got four more practices coming up.

"I'll just try and squeeze in some alone time with Beca outside of the group practices." Your mouth decides before your mind can think it through. Unfortunately, Aubrey is a lot more rational and she says exactly what your mind thinks of it.

"When, Chloe? She's never around."

You put her at ease and tell her you will work it out. Beca just needs a chance, then everything will be fine and you'll be at the World Championships in no time.

You take your coffee to go and head to your classes with Aubrey by your side, thinking of a way to convince Beca to give up her afternoon naps for more running and dancing.

_(You can think of a few that aren't appropriate for your best friend's ears.)_

* * *

Last night, when you still had hope that Beca would be home for the night, your mind was going over the deal the two of you made. She joins the Bellas and you two have sex. Easy as that.

Well, maybe not as easy as that, because she didn't come home last night, so maybe this wasn't a deal Beca wanted to make. You did just get her off and holding someone accountable for what they say during the aftermath of their orgasm isn't really fair.

You thought this was what she wanted as well.

Your mind takes you back to how amazing the sexual tension felt between the two of you when she made her way through that room with her eyes locked on yours. When her hands rested besides you on that wall and when she smirked after your first kiss. How angry it made you when she left, but at the same time your stomach was turning and your head was spinning.

The only thing you can compare that to is when Aubrey took you to that amusement park when you were fifteen and you went into the huge rollercoaster. It was the best feeling ever, but you got sick like never before. You threw up for hours to the point where your stomach was eventually empty, but you kept puking. There was just black slime coming from the back of your throat and it hurt for three days after.

But you will never regret stepping into that ride.

You don't know if it's fair to rate Beca to that level of pain yet. She gets you angry, which you hate, and she's unpredictable, yes. But she's also joined the Bellas for you, and you can't deny the fact that she was actually _trying_ last night.

Your class is dismissed soon and you head home, hoping to find Beca there after another night of staying wherever it is she stays. You go over what you wanna tell her as you make your way through campus. You have to tell her about the one-on-one practices you promised Aubrey you'd do. But you also want to get to know her. Maybe it's best to start up a conversation first and then bring up the fact that she has to give up some of those afternoon hours she spends sleeping to dance and workout.

You don't know how she'll take it.

But the two of you are on a good page now. You made this deal. You're practically friends, really. You have no doubt she'll tell you all about her.

Of course, that was stupid to think, because when she barges into the room twenty minutes after you, she ignores the question you ask and falls flat on her bed, face buried in her pillow.

_This is going to be harder than you thought._

* * *

 

* * *

  
  
You've never, ever, thought of yourself as weak, yet that's exactly what it feels like when you ask the ginger what happens now. You're actually disgusted by how easy you are. She goes down on you in your shower stall and you're willing to just throw away your dignity after that? Join a group of losers just to get laid?

_God, you're an idiot._

She tells you to meet her at seven in front of the sports hall, and you wish you knew where that was, but you'll figure it out. How big can this stupid campus be?

Quite big, it turns out.

You're cold and pissed off when you finally see a figure with red hair standing and, _yup_ , waving at you like the moron she is, you know you're there. You think about just turning around and heading back. In fact, you think about just packing your shit and leaving this fucking college behind. Go to LA and let your dad fuck himself. But you keep walking.

You don't know why.

She greets you and you shrug as a response. It's the best you got, really. You follow her inside as you wonder how it can be that this Chloe person is only a few inches taller than you, yet her legs look six foot tall in the gym shorts she's wearing.

_Maybe you can warm up to this whole, singing thing._

Yet again, you're wrong. You know that the second she pitches that goddamn song and she looks at you like she wants you to sing, you'd rather actually die right that instant. You quickly check out where that door is you came from. You guess fifty feet away. It's closed, but when has that ever stopped you?

You don't run, though. It's just a dumb song for a bunch of dumb girls. If they decide they don't want you, you'll flip them off and go on with your life. You've got nothing to lose.

"Stay here and play nice." Chloe whispers after you've sung the stupid song and you groan internally at the thought of making small talk with, well anyone, but especially these idiots. You were totally not gonna obey her at first, but she puts her hand on the small of your back and,- _well shit_. You're so fucked.

You never knew what an idiot you could be until you walked into that damn dorm. You knew she was pretty from the moment you laid eyes on her, but by the time she opened her mouth, _which was pretty much straight away_ , you grew to dislike her. And with every time after that she opened her mouth, you disliked her more and more. She's annoying and has no sense for boundaries, she never shuts the fuck up, and she's **touched** **your stuff**.

You seriously detest her.

Yet, here you are, being a big idiot, nodding and attempting to smile at these weird girls who you seriously could give two fucks about. All for this goddamn girl. You could find yourself so much easier ways to get laid.

"How can you guys sing that fucking song so many times without wanting to throw up?" You think it's a nice sentence, right? You didn't ask them how they haven't killed themselves yet over this stupid song and that uptight coach, or whatever the fuck she is. So, that's nice for your doing.

The girls turn out to be alright, you guess. You still don't give a fuck about them, though. But one girl said she liked your look,- which you didn't know was a thing, you literally just grab a bunch of clothing and throw it on, barely checking to see if it's clean, but apparently that's considered a look to some people- and another mumbled something about death, which you think is kind of creepy, but also really interesting.

You don't say anything else, though.

You're not good with words.

* * *

Chloe comes back soon with a disgustingly huge smile on her face and you roll your eyes when she's not looking. You hate it when people smile so much, over nothing. It's stupid. This world isn't all fun and games. It's fucking shit, but you assume this pretty, rich girl has never had anything happen to her that daddy couldn't fix for her.

(You don't actually know if she is rich, you just think she looks like one of those wealthy people. Why else would she smile like that all the time?)

She tells you to start with cardio, and you can't help the small curl you feel your lips making when a girl behind you says, "no, don't put me down for cardio". You're glad Chloe didn't see your face in that split second. She would've made a big deal out of it, which it's not. You can smile, sometimes. If you want to. And when things are actually worth smiling about.

You do the laps and _God_ , running to that door on the other side of the room has never looked more appealing and you think to yourself if it wasn't so far away, maybe you'd go for it.

But that stupid ginger laughs every time you pass her and insult her and it's a dumb laugh and you hate it and it's ugly. (But, not really.)

You think you're actually about to drop to the floor with a cardiac arrest when Aubrey yells it's enough. She's standing next to your roommate, arm over her shoulder and a smug look on her face. You hate everything about the picture. (But mostly Aubrey's face.)

You figured the worst was over, but you'd rather keep doing laps than this stupid dancing. Chloe put you in the middle, thinking you'd learn it faster that way, or whatever. You didn't really listen. It's so embarrassing, the way you collapse into every girl around you. They're sick of you, you can tell. And you just wanna walk away. You know when you're not wanted, and _fuck them_ , you have better things to do, anyway.

They start to protest just in time and God, you just wanna bury yourself underneath this school. You can't even do a few simple steps. Not that you care, obviously. But it's just stupid. And you can feel that stupid, blonde Hitler drilling holes into the side of your face, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her. She can suck it.

Chloe takes you to the side then and you wanna tell her she can stop this now, that there's no reason for this, because you'll be gone soon, anyway _, hopefully_ , and it makes no sense to start being a part of something –stupid- if you're going to leave before the end of the year, because no one really ever stays in contact after you've taken off. So, what's the point?

Instead, Chloe opens her mouth and tells you she's going to teach you the choreography alone before you can join the group. You just nod and her face lights up at that.

You don't know why.

You learn that the steps are rather easy when you've got Chloe next to you and showing you how to move.

"Don't look at your feet, look at me." She tells you.

You don't know why you listen.

She has pretty eyes, you can admit that. They are a shade of blue you've never seen before. The cliché books would write them off as an ocean or the sky. You think they remind you more of that one pair of high heels your mother only ever wore to special occasions. The color isn't quite right, but it's in the fact that you'll never find another pair that looks exactly like it.

"Eyes up." She reminds you and you can't help the roll of the eyes that's just so imprinted in your system.

"I like to look at what's hurting me." You tell her. You've been running around in shoes that are too small, and you can practically feel another blister coming up. You're not used to moving, you feel now.

She accepts that, it seems, and then she's suddenly behind you to adjust your hands. You get chills at the touch of it, and you hope she didn't feel that, because that would be more embarrassing than your footwork. So you shake your head and tell her you got it now, even though you probably don't, but you need her to move away from you.

Half an hour later, you're exhausted to say the least and you're glad you see the other girls packing up and getting ready to leave. You're not the exercise type and you regret all those times you skipped PE in high school and every time you took the car when you could have biked. You think you're gonna feel your muscles for the next week, punishing you for it.

The group of girls tell you goodbye and you're awkward so you spit out, "yeah, cool" instead of just returning their words. They don't look at you weird though. You think you're good. It takes a second after the gym doors closed that Chloe tells you, you can also go. You wonder if it's out of sympathy, because you look like another step is going to be the death of you. You don't care though, you're just happy you can leave.

"Next practice is tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" You were almost out the door, but your head snaps back at her. Do these people have nothing better to do? Instead of complaining about it, you just stare at her and shake your head with a shrug. "Same time?"

* * *

You put your headphones on and push through the doors that lead you outside. It's raining softly, but you don't mind it. You've always liked it when it's dark and cloudy and things don't look beautiful at all.

You're at your second Martin Garrix song when you realize Chloe and you are living in the same space and now you're walking back separately, which maybe she thinks is stupid, but you hadn't thought of it.

(Since when do you care what someone thinks? You don't.)

So, instead of slowing down, you walk home faster and by the time you've arrived and gathered all the things you need for the night, you're off again and you're glad there's no sign of the girl anywhere.

(Halfway through the night however, you wonder if she got home alright. But then you remind yourself that you're not a _fucking_ babysitter and people gotta look after themselves. You can't be everywhere.)

* * *

"It's probably a good idea if you give me your number, so I can text you about important team stuff."

You haven't even been inside for two seconds or she's going off about something again. You just ignore her. You need some sleep first. Lying on your bed and keeping your eyes closed is a hard thing for her to read, apparently, because she just keeps on talking about something you are most likely not interested in. When she starts poking your arm and saying your name, you know you have to respond in order to, hopefully, get her to shut up.

"Why are you even here? Don't you have some class to attend?"

"Becs, it's almost two p.m. I already had all of my classes."

You ignore her use of a nickname, because, _yeah of course she's that girl_ , and instead focus on the time. Two already? You worked a little longer, sure, but this long? You're sure to tell Luke tomorrow to start hiring more people.

"Don't **_you_** have classes to attend?"

You groan and turn around to lie on your back when your eyes meet. You had some time to think when you were at the record store this morning. (It was uneventful. It always is.) When you walked back home last night without Chloe, leaving so soon might have been a mistake. Yes, you had a gig, but that didn't start until midnight. You probably could have pulled off a few more minutes that would be shared with your new roommate. (Doing anything but talking.)

You worked your ass off in that stupid gym, and she didn't even reward you for it. Although, you think the reason you were gone so fast, was exactly that. You saw her winking at you at least three times during that goddamn practice, not to mention her super annoying smirk. Were you scared? Not so much. More so uncomfortable, with the whole situation. There's no rules and it's kind of a weird deal, right? You'd be more at ease if there were specific guidelines and maybe even a time frame.

_(Really Beca, you want to **plan** sex?)_

"I was asking myself an important question today. If I don't go to Philosophy, will the class still suck?"

You're kind of proud of that comeback and your smile matches your state. The girl laughs and that draws your attention, but then she's telling you she thinks the two of you should get to know each other better, so you turn in your bed and close your eyes.

You're not doing this. You need some sleep.

* * *

Turns out you **are** doing this and you, _apparently_ , don't need sleep. You have slept through alarm clocks and the fights your dad picked with his new wife you knew wouldn't stop after your eyes were closed, but Chloe's voice is high and fucking annoying and you sit up straight in bed just because you know she won't leave you alone.

"Can't you shut the fuck up for one second, I'm trying to sleep." You tell her, but the ginger's eyes jump in shock so maybe you didn't simply _tell_ her. Not that you care, you just want to sleep for a few hours.

"Didn't you sleep enough last night?"

You're not sure what kind of weird face she's making, _oh God she better not start crying in your bed right now_ , but her eyes stay dry. She looks off, though.

_But how would you know what 'off' is, maybe this is just her normal, ugly face._

You step out of bed and grab two Red Bulls out of the fridge while she continues with the interrogation. It's only a five second walk to the kitchen, but the annoying ginger manages to get like six questions out.

"Shut up!" You tell her when you turn around and you're awfully close, to your surprise. "Just, shut the fuck up, for God's sake."

You try and go around her, but she blocks your way towards your bed and she tells you she wants to get to know you better. You don't know why anyone would want that. There's nothing interesting, your dad has told you that many times. You've always been bad at most things; math, manners, being a good daughter. Yeah, high school went alright, but that was just to get his attention. By the time you realized it didn't matter whether you got A's or D's, because _Mister Mitchell_ was more concerned about the grades his favorite class got than yours, you stopped trying.

You stopped doing a lot of things after that realization.

"Like I said, I'm not here to make friends, okay? Now, can you get the fuck out of my way?"

You're not really pissed at her, _well_ , a little because you hate people who interrupt your sleep, but the thoughts of your dad has made the anger rise inside of you. And when the girl just stays standing there, it turns black in front of your eyes.

"You want me to talk? Fine. I'll talk, here goes. I agreed to join your stupid class of losers, because I felt sorry for you. You suck and only have about two decent singers. Your so-called best friend is a dick and is just using you, because you stick by her and choose her dumb side in every little thing. She doesn't see you as a friend, she sees a big, ginger _fucking_ puppy that will follow her everywhere, no matter what a bitch she is. No one has ever stood by her, has there? Everyone leaves her and that's the only reason she calls you her friend. The second someone better comes along, she'll drop your dumb ass."

You're not sure where those words came from, but you're just glad you stopped. You want to get this girl off your back, not emotional damaged for the rest of her life, talking about you to therapists for the next forty years.

Your sight slowly comes back and, _of course_ , she's backed into that stupid wall again and you're standing toe to toe. She doesn't look angry and ready to fire back at you, like everyone always does, and you don't understand why not. You were pretty harsh on her, sure she should defend herself or at least her best friend.

"See, you can't even stand up for your _goddamn_ self. I rest my case." You say, hoping this will trigger her, but there's nothing.

She looks like an innocent teenager who is about to try alcohol for the first time.

(That's a weird comparison.)

What you **_can_** see, now that your vision isn't blackened anymore, is the way she's staring at your lips.

_'God, what an idiot_. _'_ You think as you close the gap between the two of you.

You're not sure if you're talking about yourself or about her.

Her lips remind you of a summer day, _which is probably the gayest thing you've ever thought_.

But they're warm and soft and give you flashbacks of your ten your old self jumping around in the sea with your mother screaming to not go too far.

Your mom is probably the last thing you should think about with Chloe against your lips and her hands sneaking under your shirt to scratch hard over your abdomen and- _shit_.

That moan was not planned and the smirk you see on that stupid ginger's face is riling not only anger within your chest. Yet that's what you focus on, because anything else is not something you're used to.

You slam her back into the wall and the giggle she lets out is not something you let go unnoticed. You hope she didn't feel you smile at that, but your mouth is at her neck, so she probably did. You wonder what's wrong with this girl that every time you snap at her, she gets this face that looks like she's going to attack and eat you.

(Well, she might.)

But you could've known she was fucked up. Who else offers a sex deal to someone they don't even know? To some asshole? The girl is beautiful. Everyone with eyes can see that. But there's probably something seriously wrong with her if she can't find someone better to sleep with without any strings attached.

(Like, doesn't every guy in college want that? And girls, for that matter?)

You let the topic go when she pushes you back to her bed and before you can realize what's happening, her shirt is off and she's straddling your lap. That moment you lose the ability to focus on anything else than where her hands stray to and how her lips capture yours after every buckle of her hips. You can't even remind yourself to put your hands on her until Chloe releases the grip you have on the sheets and she pushes your hands onto her chest.

Your eyes open immediately at that and you notice how white your knuckles are, probably from gripping those stupid, pink sheets underneath you. You remember you're staring at your own hands, and you have better things to watch, so you look up and you're met with those blue eyes that seem to have changed shade. You move in to connect your lips again, but her head moves back and you think you must've done something wrong.

You remove your hands from her instantly and keep your eyes locked, looking for a sign in her eyes. She did put your hands there, right? Did you do that yourself? Were you not supposed to? Your mind has been a blur since the second she got you angry and you said a thousand words in one breath, so going over all the things you could've done wrong is rather difficult.

"No, it's fine." She answers the question you didn't ask. You see her eyes shining a bit more than normal and her smile isn't a smirk, it's just.. A smile.

_That's weird._

She could have easily made fun of you, because you were out of your comfort zone and that's when you're easy to hit.

Instead, she kisses you again and her arms drape over your shoulders and for a second you freeze, not quite understanding what just happened. And just when you think she's going to pull back, you kiss her hard and your hands move to her back to pull her in closer, and then flip her so she's the one lying on the bed and you're the one on top. You're not going to be weak for this girl again like in that narrow shower stall. You have to be in control of this.

She pushes her hips up before you can make a move and you think that's pretty bald of the redhead underneath you. She's got her hands on her face to cover her smile, but you can see it in her eyes. She tries it again, but this time you're prepared and you hold her down by pushing your hands on her stomach. You shake your head with a simple " _nuh-uh_ " before leaning over to take the skin of her jaw and chest in between your teeth.

_You make a mental note to remember the sounds she's making. They're better than the usual, annoying stuff that comes out._

You finally let your hand travel down from her stomach to the waistband of her pants.

_You forgot she had that on._

But there's no time to take them off, because Chloe's nails are going over your back and she's panting that stupid nickname she gave you earlier, and you're quite done with the teasing. So you leave them and slip your hand inside, fingers moving over her, feeling what a number you did on her with the foreplay, before slipping two fingers inside of the girl.

Her hips try to catch the rhythm you're making with your hand and it's not long until she's caught up and you're moving in sync. She keeps you in place with her arm around your neck, and you're so focused on the way your fingers move and curl, you have to remind yourself to occasionally _breathe_ , firstly and most importantly, and maybe kiss her neck to keep your mind from racing and telling you weird things like to run away, but the times you bite her shoulder are not planned nor processed.

They just happen.

_You don't know what that means._

_You don't want to analyze that right now._

It's not long until her other hand moves from your back to also fold around your neck and you're having trouble moving your hand with her clutching you to her body so tightly, the only thing in between you two being your arm.

You don't think you've ever been this close to someone. Not even during sex. What's more alarming is why you don't push her away, because you feel trapped. No, actually you don't. But you think you should feel trapped, right?

You feel her heart beating faster and faster against your skin, so you ignore the thoughts in your mind and you pick up the pace to send her over the edge faster, and you keep your fingers moving until her every muscle relaxes and she's just a weak, panting mess.

You're quite satisfied with that view.

The girl who was a confident, smirking ass during your first sexual encounter is now laid out on the bed, bruises on her neck running down to her chest and her heart having trouble getting to a normal pace.

You wouldn't mind doing this every time she pisses you off just to leave her like this.

Although you'd really rather not leave her, because you like the view and you like the way her hands moved over your skin earlier, but your legs hurt, reminding you that you still haven't gotten some sleep over the last 24 hours.

"What are you doing?" She asks as you make your way over to your own bed.

"Sleep." You groan as you try to block out the light of the afternoon sun coming in through your small window.

"Okay, but our one-on-one practice starts in two hours."

You don't know what that means or when you supposedly agreed to that. "Didn't we just have that practice?" You ask confidently at the remembrance of her body underneath you. You open one eye just in time to see her blush and then bury your head back in your pillow.

"Two hours!" The girl says firm and you're glad your face is covered by pillows, because you can't let her see your smile right now.

You fall asleep instantly, which is weird considering how active your mind was only a few moments again. And what feels like minutes later, but apparently is two hours, you get awakened by the hands and lips of your ginger roommate, shaking you lightly as she presses kisses to your cheek and jaw.

_God, you hate this girl._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think of it! I'm lifeisbechloe on Tumblr, come say hi ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "You remember and dwell on all the things you’ve lost and ignore all the things you haven’t. Because your scars are like stars. Yet the night stays perfectly black." -Iain Thomas
> 
> /

If there's one thing you've learned about your roommate, it's that she's easy to annoy, especially if she wants to sleep. So that's what you do, tapping her arm and repeating her name until she asks in a mumble why you're here. You tell her it's the middle of the afternoon and your classes are already over. Then, when she doesn't respond, you decide now would be a good time to ask her why she's not going to her classes. Instead of giving you an answer, she throws a joke at you that makes you laugh, because it's _so lame_.

You think you're on the way to an actual conversation, but then her face disappears into the pillow once again and you're reminded she's the least social person **_on earth_**.

But you refuse to leave her alone, because you will never be able to talk to her if she's asleep every time she's in the room.

_"Beca, we need to talk at some point."_

_"I don't even know your last name. Not that that's important."_

_"What's important is sharing things, like where we go to at night and what grade we got on our Lit paper. Or, why we didn't **make** our Lit paper."_

She's up from her sleeping position and giving you a look that could kill, making you wonder if she's mad that you suggested she didn't make her paper or just the fact that your mouth went a hundred and ten miles an hour.

"Can't you shut the fuck up for one second, I'm trying to sleep." She snaps at you and you have to swallow away the saliva built up in your mouth.

Reminded of a thought that's been rolling around in the back of your mind for a while now, you ask her; "Didn't you sleep enough last night?" You'd rather not hear the answer if it's along the lines of her making out with her boyfriend or girlfriend all night, going at it until the morning comes and then having to catch up with her sleep in the afternoon.

She doesn't answer.

You're not sure if that's a good or a bad thing.

You shake the thoughts off as you follow her into the kitchen.

"Beca, seriously, I promised Aubrey we would work on your footwork outside of the practices, okay? Do you have time today? I mean, besides all the sleeping you have to do. Maybe we can work some more after the group is gone, today. Saturday is coming up fast, we need to make things perfect.

She turns around to tell you to stop talking, _only in the rudest way possible_ , and you block her way from running away like she always does. You're sick of her thinking problems will solve themselves if she just runs from them.

"I just want to get to know you better."

"Like I said, I'm not here to make friends, okay? Now, can you get the fuck out of my way?"

You don't move however, and you can tell she's getting ticked off. You can almost pinpoint every step. The way her breathing gets heavier and faster. The way she clenches her hands into fists. The way she swallows just before her teeth grind over each other and the right corner of her mouth lifts just a little bit. At the same time her eyebrows lower and her pupils don't focus on movements anymore, as if they're not registering anything beyond her anger.

It's not long until she's spitting out words about you and your best friends and if it was any other person, or Beca wearing any other face, maybe you would be offended.

But you're not.

You just let her scream and get everything out of her system. You follow the same steps across the room, as if it's your own personal dance. She steps forward, you step back. And when you've reached the wall, you're glad she stops talking and her pupils dart around your face as if she's only just seeing you for the first time.

You can't help but think if this is what she does to everyone who tries to get close to her. And if everyone gives up this easily. By the sight of shock on her face when you don't repeat her harsh words and just look at her, you think maybe they do.

You can't really understand that, because Beca is making it so obvious she wants to be left alone, yet she's just a person. Everyone needs friends around them. Friends make life fun and help you through things.

You wonder if she's ever had someone like that.

You kind of want to hold her right now. Which is a weird thought, because she will probably kick you in the vagina and tell you to not touch her. She likes her space, you've learned as much. And she only allows you in when she **_lets_** you, which is exactly what she does that second. Stepping in and pressing her mouth onto yours.

* * *

You learn a lot of new faces that night.

You see the one where Beca is too shocked to even open her eyes when your thighs hug her hips for the first time. How her hands held a tight grip on your sheets and how she had to open her mouth just a little to get air to her lungs.

You've learned that she has a face when she's scared she hurt you. That just involves more shock, really. It was when she tried to kiss you and you didn't let her, because you were so hypnotized by her for a moment, you needed to take another second to appreciate the view, and she thought you didn't want her to kiss you, so she backed up. It is probably the nicest face you've ever seen her wear.

Then, of course, there's the face when she's a tired son of a _you-know-what_ when she heads to her own bed after you've barely gotten out of your moment of bliss.

You don't think you've ever been with someone who didn't care about "returning the favor" or getting you off just so you'll do them.

Which is stupid and childish, and you're glad Beca isn't like that.

(Although you wouldn't have minded if she had asked you.)

It's just all different with Beca. They are little things like these, but it matters to you. Makes you think of her even more. Trying to solve her even quicker. She's more complex than you thought, but you already have some big pieces of her figured out. The little and broken ones are always the hardest.

Beca's snoring starts almost immediately and you stare at her for a solid ten minutes until you realize that's weird and creepy and you're not supposed to do that. So you pace the room, get some tea and wonder if going for your daily run is a good idea when your legs and knees are still shaking from the effect of Beca's hands.

You decide not to challenge your legs any more today. With extra practices and Saturday's show coming up, you don't think Aubrey would be happy if you had to sit one out, because your roommate fucked you too hard.

Instead, you think it couldn't hurt to get some school work done. You get fifty-six pages into your new English book before you see it's almost five. You let Beca sleep for a few more minutes until it's really time for you to get going.

You start off by whispering her name, saying she has to get up, that it's time for you to go. Of course, this doesn't wake her up. So you lightly tap at her upper arm, hoping she won't get mad at you for touching her.

(Although she didn't seem to mind two hours ago.)

That reminds you that you're normally not like this with anyone else, careful as if she'll break at your touch. Usually, you're in everyone's space and you like to be up close to people to feel a better connection. That's just who you are. And you won't change that part of you just so Beca won't snap or get angry and leave. Because even though her face implied that she was breaking when you pushed her headphones off of her head that day, she wasn't actually broken. And she won't break.

You move on autopilot then, shaking her softly and pressing kisses on her face until she groans that, "yes, I'm up!" and she leans away from you.

Yet she doesn't snap, so you think you might not have overstepped some boundaries here.

Her eyes are full of sleep and you can't help but follow the way her short arms reach into the air around her to stretch. It's kind of a beautiful sight.

"Two hours is not enough sleep for one day." She tells you through her yawns and low groans.

"Wait. So, you were up all night?!"

She nods before heading into the closet to change, and you're quite happy with this first revelation Beca shares with you about her personal life. You want to know more, but you're not sure you should be pushing her now that she's voluntarily opening up to you.

"Wear something comfortable!" You yelp out instead of pissing her off with more questions. You tell her you'll wait outside as you head to the door and walk out. You do a few warming up exercises and start running in place as you see Beca approaching you. She's wearing grey sweats and a black t-shirt with a printing of something blue on it. You think they are words, but the leather jacket she has thrown over it makes it impossible for you to read.

"No way, I'm not running all the way to that stupid building."

"Come on, Becs. It'll be fun!"

"Since when is dying fun?"

She joins you anyway and you try to make small talk, but Beca tells you that if you really want her to die, you'll make her talk while running.

You laugh about that for a full minute.

* * *

By the time you arrive at the gym, Beca's breathing is seriously out of control and you think that maybe she wasn't kidding about the dying part.

"You okay?" You ask and she nods quickly. "Good." You can tell your smile is big, because she's rolling her eyes at you. "Let's get to practicing."

You head inside the building, throw your sweater in a corner and make your way over to the radio to put on some music. By the time you're all set, your eyes find Beca a few feet away from you. She's gotten rid of her jacket and you can see the whole of her shirt now. It has a blue hand print on it in which has the words "No requests" written in the palm of it, and underneath it, it says, "I'm a DJ, not a jukebox".

Your lips curl subconsciously, but you leave the smile hanging when you've realized it. You like the shirt, it's funny and cool, so you tell her. "Nice shirt." You say and she looks down as if she can't remember what she put on a few minutes ago. She doesn't say anything though, just presses her lips together and shifts them to the right with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

You think it's the closest you've seen to a smile.

Her eyes are still dark from color, but they seem lighter in weight. As if she's saying 'thank you' with her eyes, so you nod to show her you understand.

And you do understand, because she's not big with words when she's showing the good kind of emotions. She's very talkative when she's angry, but never when she's happy, even though you don't think you've seen her happy yet, but in this case accepting a compliment is already a step in the right direction.

You catch how her cheeks start to fluster and you realize you've been staring at her this entire time. She moves her gaze down and runs her hand through her hair while making her way over to you.

She doesn't speak, however, not even when she's reached you. She just sniffs and wobbles on her feet as she waits for your instructions.

You give her those.

With the music on, it's easy to miss how your heart starts to beat out of rhythm every time you have to adjust Beca's body. She's doing okay, though, it's just little things, like a tip of the hip or a hand that needs to be a little more confident in its place.

Forty-five minutes into the practice and you're very proud of how hard the brunette is trying, because it shows in her movements. You know that, because you have basically been admiring her this entire time. And when she starts to forget a few certain steps, you can't help your feet from making its way over to the smaller girl and putting your hands on her hips, leaning in closer than you normally would if you were teaching someone the dance moves, your chest brushing over her back.

She flinches and her entire body stiffens under your touch, so you remove yourself out of her circle again and realize she's not ready for you to invade her space on your own terms.

But you still think there's progress, because she's not yelling at you or cussing out words or even leaving the room.

She's still here. She's still trying.

Two more times, the instrumental version of The Sign plays before Beca starts to complain, telling you that, even without the ' _shitty_ ' lyrics there to ruin it, it's still getting old after about twenty times.

"You're making improvement, but we haven't even worked on the steps in the final chorus yet, Becs." You think you see her gulp before she responds.

"Dude, they are all the same. All the steps are the same." She tells you without raising her voice like she usually does, just running a hand through her hair with a loud sigh.

"They are not all the same, Beca. They look quite similar, but they are not exactly the same." You're slightly offended, because, yes, Aubrey told you how she wanted the choreo, yet you designed it. Figured out which move would look good after which spin. It took you days to decide which twirl was fitting where, and when a hand needed to be rested on the hip for exaggeration of the sex appeal. You even had to handpick where a smile was enough or if the girls were allowed to wink.

"Alright." She says with a small step towards you, her eyes widened and concern on her face. "But, maybe we can listen to something else for the rest of practice, before I hear it again during the group session."

You can't help but return her soft smile. She's actually planning on coming to the group practice as well, which, is obvious because she is part of the team, yet you thought it would be easier for her to just flee after this round of exercises.

"This class is just to improve my dancing, right? Does it matter on what kind of songs?"

She's already backing up towards the audio station and you shake your head in disbelieve before following her anyway. You watch how she unplugs your phone and connects her own, her thumb swiping over the touch screen until it slows down and she clicks.

You close your eyes when you hear the song vibrating through the room. You've heard this before, you think. Although most house songs sound alike to you. You went to a lot of different clubs with Tom over the course of last year, and you can hear differences in beats and lyrics, but not something that would really separate the one from the other.

You don't really know what makes one DJ better than the other.

You don't have to open your eyes to know that Beca's watching you. You can practically feel her garlic breath drilling a hole in the side of your face.

(You saw her eating that tomato and bacon sandwich with garlicky yogurt sauce dripping from the side on your jog towards here.)

("Oh, so you can't talk, but you can eat?" You asked her, to which she responded with something you couldn't get through all the food in her mouth.)

"What? Don't you think I can do the steps of 'The Sign' to this?" You say confidently as you open your eyes and you're glad the words are out before you've laid eyes on Beca, because her grin is blinding and you're not sure you can be bothered to talk when you've got such a pretty view.

"Really?" She rolls her eyes, but her smile stays in place. You think it's this music that's making her face do that. "You want to ruin a great Kygo song with those moves?"

You shrug and she lets out a laugh.

An actual laugh.

"Please, don't." She says with the sound of her laughter still echoing through the room.

You close your eyes again, partly because you don't think you can handle a Beca with a smile on her face for three seconds longer. Your heart will literally stop, you reckon. And also because you're trying to listen to the music. You think it's a nice song and you like the voice of the girl. The lyrics are a little bit weird, though. You think it might be about cheating. But then you're remembered by something you think an artist once said, that everyone reads something else in lyrics, and mostly something that they can personally identify with. Suddenly, you don't like this song that much anymore.

"What are you doing?" Beca snaps you out of your thoughts and your eyes pop open.

"I'm enjoying the music." You simply state.

"No, no, no." She drags you after her and her hand in yours is weirdly comforting. You try not to think about this so much. "That is not how you enjoy this kind of music."

She stops you at the place you danced before, untangles your linked hands to rest hers on your arms. (You tell yourself you don't miss the cold fingers as soon as she unraveled them.)

"Beca, I've been to clubs, I know how to dance to house music."

She doesn't respond.

She just keeps her eyes on you and you wouldn't dare to look away. Her hands start to move off of you as soon as you start to dance to the beat. You kind of wish you hadn't, but then she's bopping her fists in front of her chest and she does a weird version of The Running Man and you don't think you've ever had this much stomach pain from laughing so hard.

After that, she dances by moving her body weight from one foot to the other while dancing mainly by just moving her shoulders back and forth, side to side.

You're still wearing your smile as the song dies out, dancing to nothing for a second or two and Beca does too, before a completely different genre of music plays. You're still laughing from the earlier moves Beca busted, but you're surprised at the sudden drum fills and guitar plays that fill the room. You watch your new roommate's face swift entirely, once again with a fair amount of shock, and you're able to grab her hand before she can walk away.

"It's probably on shuffle." She brings out while trying to get out of your grip, eying the place where the audio dock station is positioned.

"It's fine." You tell her with a convincing nod and she stops trying to work her way out of your hand. "Show me how to dance to this."

You don't know what band this is, but they're singing about not letting someone go, so you keep your hand linked with Beca's as you copy her light head banging and the way her chest pops.

(If she's been dancing to these songs all her life, you understand why she needs so much help with how to move her hips.)

Your eyes stay on each other as the song goes on. Mostly on each other's faces, you can't tell if you're spending more time looking at her eyes or her lips, but occasionally your eyes travel down the course of Beca's body, reading the words on her shirt for the tenth time today, watching the way her arms move, watching how everything moves. And you know she's been watching you, too, because whenever your eyes jump back to her face, her eyes aren't there to meet you.

You're moving forward. You should know better by now than to question your irrational decisions, but Beca flinches, and you immediately regret your move. But then she doesn't move away from you. Instead, she puts her hand on the side of your body, her thumb running over your ribs, setting fire to the skin underneath your shirt.

You rest your arms around her neck and you're swaying together now. Which is weird, since the punk rock is still playing, yet somehow it doesn't matter.

Not a lot matters when you're with Beca, you realize.

This time you are able to see who closes the gap between you two, because you get to witness how Beca licks her lips and then gulps slowly before closing her eyes and meeting your lips with hers.

In that moment, you're most proud of the way you're figuring this girl out. That you now know how to approach her in the right way in order to get her where you want, which is as close to you as possible, for the most part.

Then her tongue swirls against your lips and you don't think of anything else but making her feel good.

* * *

 

* * *

Finding something comfortable to wear isn't hard, because most things you own are comfortable. Why would anyone own anything if it wasn't comfortable?

_You don't understand people. They're stupid._

You spot one of your favorite shirts to sleep in across the floor and it smells less bad than anything else you put to your nose, so you throw it on and make a note to start finding out where the laundry room is at this campus.

The room is empty when you're done changing and you think the girl must have already left. You down one of your Red Bulls and grab a sandwich before telling yourself to go to this stupid practice.

It doesn't mean anything to you. This team. Being a _"Bella"_. That's what makes it easier to go to the practices, you think. Because it doesn't mean anything to you, so it doesn't matter if you fail. It's just a dumb thing and you'll be out of here soon, anyway. Then nothing you've done here matters anymore and you can start over.

Part of you wonders why you've agreed to this. It's **_so_** not your thing, and, yeah, you're gonna leave soon, but why do you even bother then? Why would you build something, just to break them down again?

Maybe you've got nothing else to do and this gets you laid.

But every time the question _'why'_ skips through your mind, the only thing you see is that stupid ginger's smile.

You tell yourself it doesn't mean anything.

(It does.)

* * *

You make your way outside and see the redhead there, her smile is big and she looks really dumb as she jumps up and down. You tell her you are ** _not_** running when you reach her, but five seconds later that's exactly what you're doing.

_God, you're an idiot._

You don't know why you have to be in mint condition if you're an acapella singer. Sure, you need to have lung capacity, but if all you're ever going to sing is "The Sign", you could manage with one lap a week.

You enjoy quietness outside. Wind rustling. Leaves crumbling underneath your feet.

Chloe complaining about your sandwich.

_You swear, she's gonna be the death of you one day._

After what feels like a six hour long run, you're able to spot the building and you just wanna collapse to the floor and sleep for five days straight. Instead, Chloe asks you if you're okay and there's sympathy dripping off her face, it's disgusting. You nod without believing it yourself, but you've got her fooled, so it's fine.

The gym is empty and cold and it reminds you of your room back in Sheila and your dad's house. They tell you every time you're there that you should hang up some pictures to make the room yours. But you don't feel like you belong there at all, so you keep it empty.

Things are easier to leave when it's empty.

You don't want to think of your father right now, _or ever for that matter_ , so you get rid of the thoughts in your mind. You're proud of how easy that got, to just tell yourself you don't want to think of it anymore and it's gone. It has taken you years to get to this point where you can block every thought you want, control every bit of you, even your mind. If you're in control, at least you won't be surprised by anything.

You take off the jacket, even though you're still cold, but you guess you're always kind of cold.

Chloe tells you she likes your shirt and you have to look down to see which one you're actually wearing. You didn't forget, just lost it somewhere in your mind. It's one of your favorites, so you think it's good that Chloe likes it.

But then you think she probably only said it to be nice or to get your attention or whatever. Not that you care. Because, you don't.

The practice starts and you almost roll your eyes out of your skull when you notice it's the instrumental version of The Sign.

_If you could murder a song, you would._

Chloe is very handsy, and it makes you uncomfortably comfortable. Because, you're not uncomfortable. And you should be. Right?

This is weird. Everything about this is weird. You don't even like to dance. You don't like this girl. You really don't like this music and you're not exactly thrilled to see blonde Hitler again today.

You keep dancing, though.

Chloe doesn't say much, which you highly appreciate, but there's another thing working on your nerves and after hearing it start over for the hundredth time, you can't help nagging about the song to Chloe. She answers, but you barely hear it, because she started with that stupid nickname and you don't know why that gets to you so much.

No one's really nicknamed you before. I mean, your name is Beca. Can't get much shorter than just four letters. Your high school boyfriend for a week or so had called you all kinds of things, from honey bun to sugar tits. That was a big part of why he was only your boyfriend for about ten days. You couldn't stand them. Yet, the one Chloe uses only makes your stomach turn in the good kind of way.

"Dude, they are all the same. All the steps are the same." You continue about the dance routine, but you can tell by Chloe's face that you've said something you shouldn't have. You've done something wrong, but you're not sure what. Her bottom lip trembles lightly and you only catch it because you're staring at her so intensely, trying to find something that could explain what you did wrong.

You can't.

So you agree with her defensive words and you think about apologizing, even if you can't tell what you've done wrong. You curse yourself when just one simple word won't escape your lips. You started having trouble with apologies early on in life. One of the first times you can remember was when your dad said he was sorry for missing your musical recital in fourth grade and you screamed at him all night. And the last time being only a few weeks ago, when he told you he was _"sorry pumpkin, but that's just how things have to go"_. They didn't have to go like that. He didn't need to force you to go to college. It's funny how both those times, and probably every time in between, he didn't mean his apology at all.

And maybe that's why you can't tell Chloe you're sorry right now. Because you don't know what for and you don't want to be like your father.

"But, maybe we can listen to something else for the rest of practice, before I hear it again during the group session." You tell her and she smiles at that.

You will never know what you did to deserve that.

You quickly make your way over to the docking station and start to search for a song. You got the perfect one as soon as you open your music files. Stay is your favorite song at the moment, or just today, since it changes almost daily. You watch as the music begins to play and Chloe's got her eyes closed. If you were to be honest with yourself, it's one of the best views you've ever had.

Chloe's beautiful, you've established that since the moment you saw her. It's not a difficult thing to admit, because it simply **_is_**. She's stunningly tall, her red locks have curls that fall perfectly over her shoulders, no matter how she moves. Her eyes are a pale kind of blue that makes it look like there's electricity in them, with white rays in the iris that somehow seem to move if you stare at them too long. Her face has no rough edges, you don't think she could even try to look mean or aggressive; she simply doesn't have the features for it. You can tell by her arms, stomach and legs that she's in good shape and takes care of her body with exercise and she probably doesn't eat as much fast food as you do.

She tells you how she plans on destroying this great song with her lame dance moves, and just the thought of it cracks you up. She laughs along with you for as long as your eyes let you see that mental picture of Chloe dancing, and then she closes her eyes again.

"What are you doing?" You ask her as polite as can be, and she tells you she's enjoying the music, which can't be right. This isn't some piece by Beethoven or a damn Adele song, you don't close your eyes to feel the music better. This is music to dance to, to not think about a single thing, to clear your head and just let go, let the music control what moves you make.

You've realized a long time ago that that's what you love about house music so much. There's lyrics, there's even really deep and meaningful words in them, but if you focus solely on the beats, your mind will go blank and there's no way a thought can creep in if you just listen to the beats; how they are set up, which one follows which, when it speeds up and when it cuts out completely.

Before you know it, you're dancing again with Chloe and you make a fool out of yourself just to keep her laughing.

(You think you maybe, kind of, sort of, like that laugh. A little bit.)

You were so into the sounds Chloe made and how her body moved across from yours, that you hadn't even realized the song was over until fast drum beats by A Day To Remember take over the room. You recognize the song immediately, you used to have it on repeat and as loud as your headphones could handle it back when you lived with your father. Every time he ignored you. Every time he said "that's nice, honey" and you knew he didn't catch a single word you said.

You want to go turn it off, feeling strangely vulnerable with this song playing. It's as if you let Chloe see part of your past, or maybe just a part of you, and you are certainly not okay with that.

But her hand is in yours, and it's warm and soft, so you don't move away.

(You probably couldn't if you tried.)

You're too mesmerized by your new roommate's body movements to catch how her eyes scan over you, but you can feel it, if that's possible. You can feel exactly where she's looking at, because it feels like that part of you got lit on fire. But then she's moving in and it takes you by surprise. It startles you and you have to resist with every fiber in your body to not jump up, move away from this girl, run out to door, or doing all of these things. You stay in place, because you don't want to run.

You don't want to run away from this girl.

Chloe looks scared when you meet her eyes, so you put one hand on her and soon you pull her into a kiss, because she's so close and she looks really pretty and, _you've made a deal that you can, right?_

Although you're still not sure how this agreement works, so you don't know if you're really allowed to just kiss her.

But she's kissing back, and you don't really want to think about anything else then.

You start pulling her closer to you when you hear a door slam shut and the both of you jump away from each other's embrace as fast as possible. You know the noise came from the hallway so your eyes stay locked on the door, when a few seconds later, female Hitler comes barging in.

"What is this devilish music you're playing?!"

You force your ears to listen what song it has skipped to now, when you realize it's a mix you made yourself and you can't shut it off fast enough. Chloe's talking to her best friend and you hope she didn't hear it.

"Beca." Aubrey states as she makes her way over to you. You gulp quickly and remember to stand up straight as she approaches you. You know she didn't see you two kiss, but tension between the both of you is still there, and it doesn't help that Chloe's winking at you behind her friend's back.

"Aubrey." You say as she's reached you. You had at least seven rude nicknames lying on the tip on your tongue, but Chloe's right there and you don't want to start a fight.

"If you want to be a Bella, you're going to have to take out the ear monstrosities."

"Really? That's too bad. You know, I actually found them. Yeah, I saw this bag lying around and I just went through it, took whatever I wa-"

Chloe interrupts you, which is just a shame. You like pissing people off, and this girl is just too easy. You don't even know what she has against you. You're the one that should hate her, since she went through your stuff and called you a criminal.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go."

Chloe's head snaps back to face you and you don't really care that she looks shocked. This whole thing was a stupid idea. You're never going to get along with these girls, they are so different from you. And you're not going to change everything about you, just because this girl has a personal vendetta against you.

"Beca, please."

You think about staying, then.

"Let her go, Chlo. She could never be one of us."

And then Chloe is quiet and you start walking. You knew she was a slave to her best friend, of course she's not going to be a reasonable human being and stand up for the one who's in the right. She's a fucking puppet and you have known it since day one. _Couldn't be one of them?_ Yeah, if by that you mean uptight, boring and afraid to be anything but average.

You've heard those words all your life. At high school when you preferred to spend your lunch break on the stairs with your headphones on, writing down song lyrics where your math equations should be, instead of being with the people from your class in a crowded cafeteria. They called you a weirdo and an outcast, but you never cared about that back then.

You care now.

Your dad never liked your spikes, either. He said they are not something you should have in your ears. They are not ladylike, according to him. He said the same about your wristbands and tattoos.

You never cared, until now.

You've always liked the fact that you're different than others. You take it as a compliment when people stare. But with the realization that Chloe saw you as a freak, and maybe everyone who's ever gazed at you did, you can only hear your dad's words echo around in your head, the only thing you can see is his disapproving look, the laughs from your high school classmates and the teachers telling you to try and blend in more.

So you run. You run as fast as you can and you try to get away from the things in your mind.

But you can't.

You have been in control of your mind and feelings for so long, it's angering you that you can't snap out of it. You find yourself back in your dorm, which isn't strange, since it's the only place you know on this campus. And, once again, your dad is the reason you're curled up in the closet with your knees against your chest and clothes around you to block out the world.

It helps.

It always helps. You are not thinking of your father anymore, your mother, the people you left behind in high school or stupid Chloe and her fucking evil friend.

You're not thinking of anything anymore.

You just sit there, nothing on your mind, watching the way your fingers are shaking, until your bones start to ache and you get yourself into bed.

The last thing on your mind before you fall asleep is how stupid you were for thinking maybe Chloe would come after you.  


She didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think of it! I'm lifeisbechloe on Tumblr, come say hi or tell me what you'd like to see happen. I promise, more sexy times are on the way ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "You may talk. And I may listen. And miracles might happen." - Ernest Hemingway
> 
> /

“Beca, please.” You beg her not to go, but she leaves anyway.  
  
This thing Aubrey has against her is getting out of hand. She’s always been easy to display whether or not she likes someone. If she didn’t like your appearance, your opinion, your choice in fashion, your beliefs, or the color of your nails, for that matter, Aubrey would hold nothing back in showing you her dislike.  
  
It’s a flaw in your best friend you have accepted a long time ago, because it’s part of who she is. Judgmental. And kind of an ass. But your best friend, nonetheless.  
  
“Really, Bree?” The sound of the door closing behind Beca still echoes around in the empty room. “Why do you have to push her buttons like that?”  
  
“Why are you sticking up for her? And, where are you going?!”  
  
You know where you’re going. You’re going after Beca, because this thing between them needs to stop. But Aubrey won’t let you grab your jacket, telling you the class starts soon and they need you for the routine. You know in the back of your mind it’s silly, because basically all the girls know the routine by now. And Aubrey most definitely does.  
  
But she has her ways, her looks, her words, and you end up staying.  
  
The girls come in shortly after Beca left and they all ask where she is. You explain you’ve worked privately with her before this class, and she’ll be in group practice tomorrow again.  
  
You hope that’s no lie.  
  
The practice seems to go on for hours. Every time you check the big clock, only a few seconds have passed since the last time your eyes found the timekeeper.  
  
You wonder where Beca went. There’s a big chance she went to the place she always goes to at night. You still think that place holds a person. Or maybe she’s packing her bags right now and she’s getting ready to leave and you’ll never see her again.  
  
You don’t know why your heart muscles tighten at the idea of that.  
  
Aubrey lets the girls go exactly an hour and a half after Beca left the room, and you quickly grab your things and head out. It’s raining when you make it outside, and you hate rain. You just want it to always be summer, where the sun is up high and you don’t have to wear a jacket and everything is beautiful.  
  
You make it back to your room fifteen minutes later, and to your surprise, Beca is there. Lying under the covers with pillows covering her head.  
  
You suddenly feel bad for not going after her.  
  
You contemplate wakening her, but reckon you probably shouldn’t. So you take a seat on your bed and watch the lump on the other side of the room. You know you owe her an apology the minute her eyes open.

* * *

  
  
Turns out, this girl is a heavy sleeper and not even the screaming of the kettle gets her out of it.  
  
(You wanted tea. You were definitely not trying to see if you could wake her up. Definitely not.)  
  
And you’re not the person to sit tight and wait; you go after what you want. Before you know it, your feet have dragged you to the other side of the room and you’re placed on Beca’s bed, one of your hands on, what you think is, her back. It’s hard to tell through all the pillows and blankets.  
  
“Beca.” You whisper a few times when you realize she’s stopped snoring and her breathing is heavier. “I want to apologize.”  
  
“I don’t need it.” She mumbles, and you’re just glad she’s not pretending to be asleep or yelling at you to get away from her.  
  
“Aubrey is an amazing person, but she can be a dick sometimes.”  
  
Beca’s face appears through all the pillows then and you can tell there’s both shock and amusement on her widened lips. You smile back at her as you remove some of the remaining pillows that cover her until you can see her entirely, except for the blankets that block her from the stomach down. She’s still wearing the same t-shirt she was earlier today. You still like it.  
  
Your hand travels from Beca’s arm up to her neck and then over her forehead to fix a few strains of hair. “I really am sorry, Beca. I’m going to talk to Bree soon.”  
  
“I’m sorry, too. For leaving and all.”  
  
You smile softly at that, trying not to scare her off and ruining this moment. You know it could take one little thing for Beca to change moods, and since you haven’t figured out what those things are, you decided to not say anything and instead kiss her.  
  
She’s kissing you back, but it takes her a minute to put her hands on you like you have done, and when she finally does, that’s your cue to slowly move on top of her. If you know anything, it’s that you have to do things slow if you’re the one in control with Beca.  
  
You move your hands from her hair to her neck to pull her in closer as you position your legs on either side of her. She shuffles under you, and you think for a moment that she’s about to run away again, but then she relaxes and even hums against your lips.  
  
You don’t think you ever want this moment to stop.  
  
Beca’s hands crawl under your shirt and her fingers are cold as usual, but she still lights you on fire. You don’t know if that’s even possible, but you have to pull your lips off of hers to breathe and fight the glow inside of you. But she moves her mouth to your neck and it’s not helping you put out the flame at all.  
  
“You know, there’s this party on Thursday.” _You should really learn to shut your mouth._ “All the girls are going to be there, I think it will be good if you came.”  
  
Beca moves back to raise an eyebrow and grins at you. She’s such a child. “Shut up.” You tell her as you remove her t-shirt and pin her back against the bed. “I think it will be good for team spirit, you know?” You explain against her lips.  
  
“If I agree to be your date to this stupid party, will you shut the fuck up?”  
  
You smile at her words, knowing you got her wrapped around your little finger. You should ask her more things when you’ve got her hot and panting. “It’s not a date.” You state and then you figure you’ve kissed her lips enough.  
  
You follow her collarbone down to her chest with your mouth and you keep your eyes open to see the marks you leave. You’re quite proud of how many there already are.  
  
“Hey, Beale.” Your head snaps up to meet her eyes and you wonder for a split second how she knows your last name. It’s only on all of your books and old papers that are scattered around the room. “It’s just sex. Good thing about this is we don’t need to pretend we like the foreplay.”  
  
She looks so smug and superior that it brings you great satisfaction to thrust your two fingers inside her and watch how every single ounce of confidence leaves your roommate’s face, just like that. “You’re right, you don’t need foreplay.” You raise an eyebrow at her, but she has her eyes closed, so you let out a short giggle, hoping that will bring Beca the same notion. You draw your hand back and wipe your wet fingers over the small brunette’s abdomen, to which she groans and tries to push your hand back down her pants.  
  
“Ask nicely, Beca.” You bring out once you’ve managed to control your laughter.  
  
“Fuck off.” Beca spits out as she brings your lips together and bites down hard. You hum at her touch before you realize you’re in control here and you want her to ask for it.  
  
“I said-“ You’re pulling back, dragging your hand over Beca’s stomach to get back to the place she needs you most. “-ask nicely.” The palm of your hand rubs over her clit as your fingers brush between wet folds. The sound that escapes your new friend’s mouth sends an electric shock right through your core, but you keep your hand still inside Beca’s underwear, wondering if you’re punishing her more than yourself.  
  
“Fuck, fuck. Just, fuck me.” Beca pants as she lifts her hips, trying to get your fingers inside her.  
  
“That’s not really a question, but I’ll take it.” You giggle as you start to move your hand and the brunette’s back arches from the bed, her head falling back with her eyes still closed.  
  
You push your body onto hers and she meets you immediately with a kiss. Her mouth moves uncoordinated and the kisses she returns are lazy and sometimes barely hit your lips. She’s more focused on getting air to her lungs as she lays there gasping with her jaw low than she’s bothered with meeting your lips.  
  
You take it as a compliment.  
  
It’s not long until Beca grips at both your shoulder blades tight and her nails stay ducked deep into your skin until she’s hit her high. You don’t stop the movement your fingers are making, however. You like her hot and sweaty too much to stop and it’s rewarding, because she’s panting louder now, your view of her is messier, but nonetheless pretty. You think it’s a personal record when you hear her swearing fast and her whole body starts to tense.  
  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, f-“  
  
She collapses on the bed and you crawl into the spot next to her, watching her get her heart speed back to a normal speed.  
  
“What are you doing?” She snaps when you put an arm around her, but you can tell she’s not really angry or surprised. You know those faces by now.  
  
“Cuddling.” You simply state as if it’s the most rational thing to do after sex.  
  
(It is, to you.)  
  
“I don’t cuddle.” She says as she removes your arm from her and she turns around to check on the time.  
  
“Need to be anywhere?” You ask, knowing it must be close to midnight soon.  
  
“Not yet.” That’s all she says and then she’s out of the bed. You follow her lead and crawl into your own bed, feeling, once again, out of place on her side.  
  
She returns with a Red Bull and you don’t think you’ve seen her drink anything besides that poison. She hints at it and looks at you, and you shake your head. You don’t want one.  
  
“You know, there are better things to drink if you’re going to have to pull an all-nighter.” You whisper, still hesitant of whom she meets and what she does, you keep your eyes on your hands and wonder when they started shaking.  
  
“Yeah?” She asks. “Like what?”  
  
“Like, coffee!” She scoffs and you hop up on your feet as if you’re offended by it. “Coffee will work better than that dirt you’re having.” You say with a confident smirk and a reached out hand.  
  
“You seem very sure of yourself.”  
  
“I am. Let’s go.”  
  
To your surprise, Beca takes your hand to drag herself up. She goes through her bag, that’s still lying there unpacked at the foot of the bed by the way, and she takes some jeans and a shirt out. You quickly change yourself and five minutes later you and Beca are out the door and headed towards Starbucks. You keep to yourself, knowing your new friend is not at all big on conversations and you’re already pleased she’s coming with you to get coffee. But she hands you one of her earplugs as she takes the other and you spend the whole way listening to the music Beca’s got playing on her phone.  
  
Most of the songs are unfamiliar to you, but when it skips to ‘Sun Is Shining’ you get to sing along and hum to the beat. It’s gotten to your attention that Beca really likes house music. All the songs her phone plays tonight are by DJ’s and you think that’s interesting.

* * *

  
  
You make it to Starbucks and Beca holds the door open for you. You raise your eyebrows at that, and she rolls her eyes before pushing you further into the building.  
  
You tell her to get a seat and you’ll order something as you stand in the short line. It’s nearing eleven o’clock, you see, and there are very few people in the coffee shop.  
  
“Just a coffee, okay? Don’t get me a weird moco-choco thing.”  
  
You just laugh as you follow her across the room. She takes the table in the very corner and you can’t say it amazes you. You order two latte macchiato’s and a chocolate muffin as you head into the tiny girl’s direction.  
  
“Wow, dude!” Beca squeals when you’ve placed the drinks on the table. “Did they only have XXL?!”  
  
It’s the normal size, but you can see why Beca, a Starbucks virgin, would say that. You eye her until she takes a zip and she parts her lips twice, the same way she does when she’s just out of her sleep.  
  
“Good?” You ask as you take your own mug to your lips. She nods and then her jaw falls open and within a blink, she’s got ahold of the muffin and her eyes are wide when she looks at you.  
  
“Muffin!” That’s all she says before taking a big bite and then closing her eyes and letting out a pleasing moan.  
  
(You’ve heard that before.)  
  
You giggle at the sight and just before she plans to take another bite, her face shifts and it’s too quick for you to realize how exactly it did.  
  
“Why did you only get one?”  
  
“It was the last one.”  
  
She gasps at that note and tries to give you the muffin, but you refuse. “It’s yours.” You say, and you know you’ve made the right decision when you see her face light up. “I do want something back for it, though.”  
  
“Oh yeah?” She’s got chocolate crumbles on her cheek and in between her teeth and Beca suddenly doesn’t look as intimidating anymore, not even with eyeliner and a leather jacket on. She looks like a literal five year old. “What would you like, then?”  
  
You hum and scan the room, as if the answer lies there. “I’ll tell you after you’ve finished the muffin.” You state and you can see she’s getting scared. But then she stuffs the rest of the food down her throat, downs her, very hot, coffee and stands up. “Alright, let’s go then.”  
  
You look at her questioning and it’s only then that she realizes you didn’t mean anything dirty by it. You point back at where she came from and she takes the hint and sits back down.  
  
“You could’ve said it wasn’t sex before I burned my tongue.” She complains in a mumble as she lays her arms crossed onto the table and puts her chin on top of them.  
  
“Who said it wasn’t sex?” You say with a wink as you run your foot down her leg under the table. Her eyes pop, but you think she can tell it’s just playful.  
  
You take in the sight, because it’s quite rare. Seeing your new roommate rather relaxed, not even flinching at physical contact, and smiling at you without her music there to play.  
  
“Spit it, Beale.” She says, taking you out of your trail of thoughts.  
  
You use the next few seconds to just grin at her until you’re sure she’s frightened enough. “I want to ask you questions.” You decided. “Ten questions.”  
  
“Ten?! No way.”  
  
“You ate my muffin!”  
  
“Yeah, I did.” She says with a proud nod and a seductive look.  
  
“Shut up.” You giggle. You’ve seen many faces already, but Beca being seductive and flirty is one you want to see a lot more.  
  
“You get two.” She tries to negotiate.  
  
“Ten.”  
  
“Five!”  
  
“Ten.”  
  
She groans and cusses, and then agrees with her head thrown back. “But not all at once, I can’t take that.”  
  
That’s fair, you think. You can’t expect her to lay her soul open in one setting. But you do need to know one thing, right now. “Where do you go to at night?”  
  
“That’s your question?” She laughs with a shake of her head, then sighs heavily and meets your eyes again. “Alright, then. But that’s the only one for the night!”  
  
You nod and can’t help the excitement from showing on your face.  
  
“I work at night. I’m, kind of a DJ.”  
  
**_“You are a DJ?!”_** All the people in the shop have probably heard you, loud and clear, but you don’t care. “That is so cool!” You squeal.  
  
“Yeah, it’s alright.” She downsizes.  
  
**_“Alright?!”_** You repeat ten times louder, followed by a laugh. “That’s anything but alright, that’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard!” You don’t know any DJ’s, and you’re certainly not friends with any. “So, the music on your phone? You play songs like that?”  
  
“Yeah, I mean.. I make my own mixes, but-“  
  
“You make your own songs?!”  
  
“Dude.” Beca laughs with her lips slightly parted. “You gotta chill.”  
  
You ask her a million questions and she answers them, to your surprise. (Even though you were only allowed ten questions, but you think this all counts as one, right?) She tells you about her equipment and what program she uses to mix. She tells you about her first mix and the time she was first asked to come play in clubs. She tells you about the way people dance to her music, how they move and how they yell. She spends a good fifteen minutes talking about European DJ’s and how she’s influenced by them.  
  
And when she’s finally taking a break to breathe, you ask her why and how she ever got into that. Her eyes darken and stare at the table while her jaw clenches and you wonder what you did wrong. “I said one question for the night, and you asked at least seventy. I think that’s enough about me.”  
  
You think she’s about to change the topic, but you have one more thing you need to know. You might not know a lot about the music genre, but you do know clubs. And you know they don’t stay open until noon or two p.m., which is usually the time that you find Beca busting through the door and passing out.  
  
“Oh, no, I also work at the record store. I have morning shifts, but lately Luke has been exploiting me. He should really hire more people.”  
  
“Wait, so you DJ all night and then you work in the campus’ record store all morning and part of the afternoon?!” That’s just crazy, no wonder she sleeps whenever you see her. “Do you not have class?”  
  
She doesn’t answer that and instead gets up to get you a refill, but you stop her and tell her you’re good. A few minutes later, you’re walking out of Starbucks and it’s pitch dark outside. The stars are out and a few street lights keep you from wandering. Beca hands you an earplug again and you take it, listening to every song she plays and wondering if you hear the same thing she does. You’re both listening to the same song, sure, but do you really _hear_ what she hears?  
  
At one point during your walk, your right hand has made its way into Beca’s left and you’re surprised she doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
Progress, you tell yourself.  
  
You have to release Beca when you’ve arrived at your dorm in order to find your key somewhere it your bag. When you’ve opened the door, Beca doesn’t step in.  
  
“Thanks for the coffee.” She says and you wonder why it feels like she’s saying goodbye. Before you can say anything, she grabs her laptop case and her other bag from the room and heads out. You were so fascinated by the idea of her being a DJ and doing all that cool stuff, you forgot she actually had to go and _be_ a DJ tonight. You check the time and see it’s almost one. You hope you didn’t make her late to her gig.

* * *

  
  
You wake up the next morning and your eyes focus on the bed next to yours before anything else. It’s the same as last night; unmade and pillows scattered around on it, her huge, green bag still unpacked at the end, and, maybe most importantly, empty.  
  
Yet, you feel better now, knowing where she is.  
  
You head out for your jog, since you skipped it last night and you take a shower after, meeting Aubrey for coffee again at seven a.m. sharp. You still need to talk to her about the way she’s been treating Beca, but you’ve got class together all day and practice after that.  
  
It’s just not a good way to start the day.  
  
You do tell her about your evening with Beca, (the coffee part, not the sex part) and you can tell she’s surprised about your roommate opening up and turning out to be making music and not killing people at night.  
  
The day goes by smoothly, but Beca’s on your mind a lot. When you realize it’s almost noon, you decide to text her. (You stole her phone when she was sleeping the other day to get her number.)

* * *

 

* * *

  
  
You dream of your mother that evening. It’s not the one where she dies like you’d usually dream of. It’s actually a nice one this time; you were both walking around in some city, she led and you followed her quickly behind, like you always would, hand in hand. She smiled and you thought you forgotten what that looked like.  
  
You’re awakened once again by your obnoxious, ginger roommate and you ponder if this will be your life for the next few months. She’s sitting still on your bed and you think you feel her hand on the other side of your blanket. She starts to apologize and the words leaving your mouth aren’t filtered, so they sound rather harsh.  
  
You think she can take it.  
  
Then you hear a word you’d never thought you’d get to hear in Chloe’s voice. It’s still as innocent as can be, you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone say the word ‘dick’ that de-emphasized. Your eyes jump open and you’ve spotted her, in the middle of your bed, smiling at you. You know your mouth is hanging, but you’re still in shock, so what can you do about it?  
  
Before you know it, she’s back to apologizing, and you’d rather her not. You always feel uncomfortable when people apologize. (But you’re always uncomfortable, really.) Seriously, what do you tell someone who’s saying sorry?  
  
You go by returning the words. They sound frank, but they taste bitter and you instantly regret it. You haven’t said those words in a long time. It’s like you’ve done something wrong, which you don’t think you did. But you are a troublemaker and Chloe seems not. She seems innocent and probably never spent a night in jail.

 

(You lost count after the third or fourth time when your dad had to get you out.)

 

You quickly find yourself back on Chloe’s lips. That’s been happening a lot lately. You still haven’t figured out when it’s okay to do these kinds of things. Chloe seems to be doing it whenever she wants, but it’s not so easy for you.  
   
You’re not a very sexual person. Sure, you’ve been with people and you’ve enjoyed it. It’s just not something you can just snap yourself to. You can’t go from zero to a hundred. From apologizing to kissing. You need lingering looks and touches, hands that pull you in so you’re sure this is what the other person wants, too.  
   
Maybe it all comes down to rejection.  
   
Maybe that’s what everything comes down to, for you.  
   
Fear of rejection.

 

Soon, your mind stops making over hours and you give in to Chloe’s touch.

 

* * *

 

You could’ve guessed she was the cuddling type, but if there’s anything you don’t do, it’s that. You couldn’t possibly think of anything more awkward. What do you do? You just lie there? Together? And talk? No, you’d rather set yourself on fire than doing that.  
  
You grab something to drink, and of course, she has something to say about that.  
  
 You really hate it when people bug you about what you do or what you say, or, in the case, what you drink. It’s your own body. Even if it was as poisonous as Chloe’s eyes made it out to be, it’s still her own body she’s killing it with. Her body, her business.  
  
Somehow she convinces you to get coffee with her, although you didn’t even make her ask twice, that’s how fast you were on your feet. Which is stupid and idiotic. Who goes out to Starbucks after casually having sex with, basically, a stranger?  
  
An idiot, that’s who.  
  
You decide you’ve had enough awkward moments for the day as you plug in your earplugs and hand one to the woman walking beside you. She takes it and smiles. You’re just happy she’s not talking.  
  
A few songs in and she starts singing along. It gives you goosebumps, although you can blame the cold breeze for that if anyone asks. Her voice is soft and sometimes no more than a hum, yet you’re hearing it louder than the voices in your head that are still telling you to run away.  
  
They’ve always been screaming that, you’ve kind of gotten used to it.  
  
You arrive at what apparently is a Starbucks. You’ve heard of it, sure. But since you hate everything and mostly the things people like, you had no choice but to hate the popular brand of coffee shops. Even though, you’ve never been inside and you kind of heard good things about it, you still hate it.  
  
What you hate most is that they don’t have normal names for their coffees. You can’t just walk into a Starbucks and order a latte. No, it has this weird name for it, consisting of at least six different languages and how are you supposed to know which is a normal coffee or a hot chocolate? You don’t understand it, why can’t they just call it what it is.  
 

_Ugh, you hate people. They’re stupid._

 

But Chloe is offering to get the drinks and, even though you hate people paying for you, you let her and decide you’ll get her bank account number from somewhere and transfer it back.  
  
You take a booth and get your phone out to check what time your gig starts tonight. Two a.m. Good. It’s nearby, so you basically have two hours left. And even if you’re late, who cares. It’s a damn Wednesday and all the fifty people that will be there (tops), will most likely be drunk and/or high by the time you get there, so it’s whatever.  
  
You do like shows in the middle of the week, though. It’s those people you like the most, even though they’re probably out of a job, they can appreciate music whenever they want, and not just on weekends.  
  
You like people who aren’t ordinary.  
  
Which doesn’t explain why you’re spending time with Chloe. She’s basically the definition of ordinary. She goes to sleep before midnight and awakes with the sunrise, she follows all her classes and always has tea to drink. You wonder if she’s doing that to save her throat, as if one Red Bull really will poison her or ruin her voice.  
  
(You don’t know all these things for sure, but you can’t help but think you’re 100% right.)  
  
She’s not exactly a risk taker, at least that’s what it seems. She’s quite boring, now that you’re thinking about it, and you kick yourself mentally for staying in place instead of just walking out. You should just walk out.  
  
Chloe arrives at your table with two **vases** of coffee. _Seriously. What. The. Fuck_. The drink is okay, you guess. Nothing to write home about, but it’s alright. You think about what kind of bullshit small talk you’re going to have to make now, when your eye falls on an item in the middle of the table.  
  
Muffin!  
  
You don’t know if that was internal or said out loud, but you don’t care. You love muffins. And you love chocolate. The two put together was an act of God.  
  
When your eyes open again after having a moment to yourself with the food, you find Chloe smiling at you and you wonder how you could ever think this girl was ordinary.  
  
“Wait, why did you only get one?” You ask and you gasp a little as you learn it was the last one. She probably got it for herself, and you just had to go and put your teeth in it. You really hate the few times you were impulsive and did things you shouldn’t, like, well actually all the times you’re angry or annoyed, which aren’t few at all.  
  
But she tells you to have the muffin in exchange for something, and she was winking and smirking so what were you supposed to think?  
  
Not that, apparently, because Chloe’s just staring at you and hinting for you to sit back down.

 

_God, you’re an idiot._

 

She tells you she wants to ask you questions and the sigh you let out is not necessarily aimed at her, just at the general idea of talking about anything. Probably yourself. _God, why did you have to take that muffin if it was just a poisoned apple in disguise?_  
  
“Where do you go to at night?”  
  
You could’ve expected that one. She’s been bugging you about that since day one. You answer and her face pulls tight, not a single wrinkle to be spotted as her jaw falls open and she, very loudly, repeats your words.  
  
No one’s ever been proud of you for being a DJ, so when Chloe asks you all kind of questions about what you do, you answer them. With each word you tell her, the girl’s excitement grows and you want to keep telling her more things, so she can keep being excited and maybe it’ll make up for all the times people told you that DJ’ing wasn’t a “real thing” or that anyone could press and shift a few buttons.  
  
It doesn’t.  
  
But Chloe’s smile is bright and honest and maybe that’s enough for now.

 

* * *

 

You’re walking home with Chloe next to you, your earplugs bungling between your bodies as the music flows through your ears onto the streets. You notice the exact moment Chloe takes your hand in hers, because you have to fight off every urge inside to jump up and start running. (The redhead can run faster than you anyway, so what’s the point?)  
  
You tell yourself this is a normal thing. Chloe is the kind of person to cross lines as if they’re not even there, like the shower curtain that had most certainly been there, but she ripped it to the side as if it was all in your head, as if it was all imagined.  
  
The shower curtain hadn’t been imagined, but there was no visible line here now. Nothing in between them that would let Chloe know this is wrong. (Maybe it wasn’t wrong. Her hands have been all over her, what’s the matter if it’s holding her hand?) Yet there was a big, red line surrounding you, keeping everything out. It may not be touchable, but the line is very much there to witness, just as real as the curtain. You just have to look.  
  
It’s quite scary, actually. Even though you know Chloe’s only doing this, buying you coffee and asking you to come with to stupid parties, which by the way is something you need to make up an excuse for, because no way you’re going to a party with those losers in your acapella club, Chloe knows you tend to flee when things get weird. You did so that first time you barely kissed, that time you actually kissed, and probably a dozen more times which you can't even remember. So she knows you have a habit of getting out of things, which is probably what she thinks you'll do with her agreement.  
  
(You might, though.)  
  
In which case, coffee, small talk and dancing are not going to keep you from leaving.  
  
You’ve gotten so used to succeeding in keeping everything and everyone out, it shocks you now to realize Chloe’s gotten past your guard. And all it took was a soft smirk and baby blue eyes.  
  
Scratch scary, it is terrifying. You want to run away, tell her to fuck off or at the very least release her hand, so you can think straight again. But your eyes found her face and she’s humming along to the song that you forgot was playing, and her eyes are closed and her lips are smiling like usual. She’s letting you lead her, make sure she doesn’t bump into things, but without actually stating that “hey, I’m going to close my eyes, keep a hold of my hand and guide me through, will you?”. She trusts you without letting you know, and that’s a next level of trust, you reckon.  
  
To be frank, it scares you even more. But you keep her hand in yours and occasionally sneak a glance at her, seeing she’s still following you blindfold and wearing the same smile she has been for a while now.

 

You don’t ever want to be the reason she loses that smile.

 

When you finally make it to the room, Chloe’s fingers linger onto your skin until she finally lets go entirely. You tell yourself you don’t miss her warmth right away.  
  
(You do.)  
  
You check the time while she’s busy opening the door and it’s almost time for you to go. You have some time left, but you’ve actually had a good evening, and you don’t want to ruin that with more of her talking or questions crap. You decide to leave before you fuck things up. Somehow, you always do.

* * *

 

You take a cab to the club and get in through the artist entry. The front door is actually closer, but you like the way it makes you feel when you get to use that entry. You salute some people you recognize on the way, either with a nod or with two fingers to the side of your head accompanied with a wink. You’ve got headphones on, so most of them wave or nod back. You appreciate them not trying to disturb you.   
  
That is, of course, until Kevin comes to bust your chains about the set list. He’s kind of your manager, but he’s also the co-owner of the club. Him wanting you to play more known songs instead of your own mixes shouldn’t hurt that much for that reason, he’s just being a business man in that view, looking out for the club.   
  
But it does hurt.  
  
It’s a good thing you’re a stubborn bitch who doesn’t listen to what he says anyway. He hired you to play here; you’re going to play here. If he wanted someone to just spin Hardwell tracks all night, he should have gotten someone else.  
  
Or put on a CD.  
  
Yet there’s comfort in the fact he hasn’t fired your ass and gotten someone that actually listens to him. You think he secretly likes your attitude. And you spin a few tracks off of his list.  
  
You’ll spin an extra one for him tonight.  
  
You get yourself into the DJ booth and there’s already a fair group of people on the dance floor below, dancing along to the tracks that are coming out of the huge speakers. You recognize most faces, drunk as always, because this is still a rather small city. However, there seems to be a group of about ten youngsters that you’ve never seen before. Maybe a party, maybe simply their first time. They cling by each other in the middle of the room with drinks in their hands and you get your equipment ready twenty minutes prior than you must, because the group is not dancing and you’re here to make sure they do.  
  
You open with Avicii, because that always gets the people going. Halfway through you mix an old Tiësto song through it, because he was the reason you got into DJ’ing in the first place and he’s like a God to you.  
  
By the time that one drifts out, you play the mix you came up with a few weeks ago. It’s at least ten minutes long; you play Gavin James’ ‘Book of Love’ accelerated six times, mixed with Rise Against’ ‘Make It Stop’ and you mash that one up with The White Stripes’ ‘Seven Nation Army’. That song always seems to get people on their feet, so you threw it in. As it seems, the song did get the people at the bar dancing, and that’s the reason you’re smiling right now. There’s nothing better than to see people getting crazy over your mix.  
  
You spot Kevin behind the bartenders and you decide to throw in Stay by Kygo just to please him. He nods and you think you can see a smile, but it’s quite the distance, so you’re not sure. As the song busts through your headphones and through the room below you, you’re immediately thinking of Chloe. It’s not surprising; she was with you last time you played it. And you’re seeing her dance on the floor below instead of the crowd, and you’re hearing her voice instead of Maty Noyes’ and you kind of wished you were holding her hand instead of these cold buttons, but that is crazy and this is your time and this is what you did best.

It may have been night for some people, it was morning to you and your day has only just started.  
  
You don’t think of Chloe for the rest of the night.

* * *

  
  
The club starts to empty out around six and you play until all that’s left is the group of ten that are probably on ecstasy or something. One of the girls has been staring and winking at you since the beginning of your set, so you’re not surprised when you see her making her way over while you, Kevin and the bartenders of the club are having drinks.  
  
She says she just wanted to let you know she liked your music, and somehow it’s easier to talk to people who have good taste, because you invite her to sit with you and the guys and it’s rather easy to talk to her. (That could be, because she’s either drunk or on drugs. Possibly both.)  
  
By the time you check the time, it’s already past eight and you’re late. You leave the guys and the girl that’s named Lauren you’ve learned. Not that it matters, you’ll forget that by the time you’ve arrived at the record shop.  
  
You always do.

* * *

  
  
Luke just stares at you like he always does and you wait for him to get out of the radio booth until you start to explain that the gig went on longer than you expected.  
  
“Oh, don’t apologize to me. I’m just happy I got a big shot working in my store.”  
  
You punch his arm and head down to the back to get ready to stocking. You like the work you do here, and you like Luke. He’s super chill and reminds you of a young Ryan Gosling. He’s tall and wears tight shirts to show off his muscled arms. He’s a senior and has worked here since day one. You hope he trust you enough to leave it in your hands after he leaves.

 

(Wait, what? You won't be here to take over this stupid store, you're going to LA soon.)

 

Or maybe he’ll stay here, who knows. The store makes barely enough to keep from closing, but maybe that’ll turn around in the upcoming months.  
  
(But probably won’t.)  
  
“Hey, Mister station manager.” You call out as he goes to grab coffee.  
  
“What’s up, Becky?”  
  
You hate him for using that dumb name, when he knows damn well it’s not your name. You roll your eyes and he laughs. His teeth are so white, it’s not fair. “How did you manage this place without me?”  
  
He snorts at your arrogance and you just wink, awaiting his answer.  
  
“I had two puppets before you. Their internship ended before summer break, and most people left campus by that time, so I was alright on my own.” He explains.  
  
“You stayed here for summer break?!” You ask and he just nods, but his eyes tell you there’s a story behind that nod. You let it go, though. There’s nothing worse than people getting their nose in your business. “Okay, so you had two interns, and now you have one.” You’re not technically an intern, because you haven’t been to a single class, you don’t even know if you have to intern this semester, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care.  
  
“Becky, I can’t even pay you.” He admits, and it’s true. But you’re not here for the money.  
  
“Just put out an ad, okay? I’m sure there’s another idiot willing to work just for the pleasure of being around you.” You joke and he laughs at it. He tells you he’ll think about it as he heads back into his booth.  
  
You think today was a success. Or, yesterday? You're losing track of time.

 

* * *

 

  
  
Your phone buzzes a few hours into your shift and you wonder if it’s worth checking. It’s probably your dad asking you to call him, which you won’t do.  
  
**_Unknown: how is my tiny DJ? ;) ;) ;) :D (11:56)_**  
  
Ugh, God, no, why. How the fuck did the ginger get your number? You should really put a lock on all of your belongings when you get back to that damn room.  
  
**_Beca: do I even need to ask how you got my number (12:02)_**  
  
**_Unknown: nope. ;) ;) ;) x (12:02)_**  
  
What the fuck, she’s not even sorry she invaded your privacy. Again. You hate this girl so much.  
  
**_Unknown: whatcha doin, Becs? (12:03)  
  
Beca: trying to ignore you, tbh (12:06)  
  
Unknown: hihihi you don’t mean that. Will I see you today ?? ;) ;) ;) :D (12:07)  
  
Beca: well we live in the same room, so… Yah. (12:11)_**  
  
This girl is so dumb, has she forgotten you share a dorm? What a fucking idiot. Why are you still replying, you have stocking to do.  
  
**_Unknown: hmm ;) ;) ;) sexy (12:13)_**  
  
What the fuck is sexy about that? Ugh, you’re not gonna reply anymore.  
  
**_Unknown: don’t forget the party tonite ;) ;) ;) (12:15)_**  
  
Apparently grammar is not a thing to her.  
  
**_Beca: yeah about that (12:16)_**  
  
**_Unknown: it’s gonna be fun no excuses!! (12:17)_**  
  
Fine, you’ll go to the stupid thing. It’s a party, so there must be booze. And you’re sure you can sneak out after a bit. No one knows you, so it’ll be a piece of cake.  
  
**_Beca: Kevs, can you get someone else for later? (12:20)_**  
  
You’re not sure what time or day it is, so later will do the trick.  
  
**_Kevin: wow, does our Miss Workaholic have plans? (12:22)  
  
Beca: shut up, I’ll take it as a yes (12:25)  
  
Kevin: sure, let me know how it was to be a normal person for once ;p (12:29)_**  
  
Ugh, why is everyone so annoying. You’re going to need a nap of at least five hours later. You tell Luke you’re out and he just waves as he continues his live show. You think the store will do for the day like this.  
  
You plan to check your phone for the time when it buzzes again.  
  
**_Beale: whatcha wearin ;) ;) ;) (12:31)  
  
Beca: Oh my God, I am not sexting you (12:32)  
  
Beale: I meant to the party, silly! ;) :D (12:32)  
  
Beca: oh… idk clothes (12:35)  
  
Beale: boring ;) ;) need help to pick something out? ;) :D (12:36)  
  
Beca: no, I’m just gonna wear what I wear, alright? Stop bothering me now (12:40)  
  
Beale: :( (12:40)_**  
**_Beale: :( (12:41)  
Beale: :( (12:41)  
  
Beca: are you kidding me right now (12:42)  
  
Beale: ;) (12:42)  
  
Beca: ffs I’m gonna sleep, you better not wake me up again (12:45)  
  
Beale: nite Becs!! ;) ;) ;) xxx (12:46)_**  
  
You’re not even home yet, but you were done talking and Chloe was annoying you. Though it is kind of nice she said goodnight even if it’s past noon for her. Whatever. She’s still the most irritating and obnoxious person you’ve ever met and you wish this goddamn year was over already so you could go to LA and be done with this stupid college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editting took me longer than expected, sorry guys! Thanks for reading! I changed the rating from this chapter on since.. Reasons ;) And I thought I'd let you guys know I'll be updating at least once a week, but not any particular day or whatever. Just, so you all know I will update at least once every seven days, so there's that. Let's hope I can keep with that promise ;p Let me know as usual or come talk to me, I'm lifeisbechloe on Tumblr ;)
> 
> Side note; I am no DJ nor do I know anything about it xd So don't take those parts too serious!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds." -Laurell K. Hamilton
> 
> /

Texting Beca's not much different from talking to the small brunette. She's awkward and distant, but she replies, which is not always guaranteed within an actual face-to-face conversation. Your class is over around three o'clock and you go to grab coffee with Aubrey, Stacie and Cynthia-Rose since Beca's sleeping in your room, anyway. Not that it means you can't do anything if she's passed out, you guess you could study or read a book, but deep down you know you'd just end up staring at the sleeping creature for hours until she'd wake up.

First, it's all talk about the performance next Saturday and the girls express how psyched they are about it. Everyone but you and Aubrey are new to the performing part of this, and even the two of you are no pro's. It's always exciting and you still get nervous right before you're up. But that's normal. Then Cynthia-Rose changes the topic to the party tonight. It's just a get together with all the acapella singers on campus.

"Oh, I told Beca to come, too, by the way."

"Why?" Aubrey asks and you ignore her, because she knows why. Beca's part of the team, whether Bree wants her to be or not.

"The little ray of grumpiness is coming to a party? How'd you manage that, Chlo?" Stacie questions and you wink, but you doubt she has any clue. You like Stacie. She's a flirt and she likes getting attention. She's a lot like you in that view. But she's also really smart; you spotted her tutoring some other freshmen about the laws of physics and mathematics. You barely know algebra, let alone any of the equations the tall girl was talking about.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Chloe." Aubrey tells you firm and you seriously need to have a conversation with her, soon. You don't know what she has against your new roommate, but it needs to stop. Certainly now that she knows that Beca doesn't do anything weird at night, she's a DJ and probably doesn't even have time to be a murderer on the side.

"She's coming, Bree." You tell your best friend to which she raises her eyebrows in response and you suddenly feel really small. Aubrey has made you feel like that before. It's not often that it happens, but you know that she can whenever she wants. It hasn't happened in a while, though, so you're startled when your chest feels heavy and you feel yourself getting emotional. That doesn't mean you're gonna start crying right here and now, it just makes you feel vulnerable. It doesn't help that she keeps her eyes focused on yours and you're scared to break the spell.

"Girl fight!" Cynthia-Rose yelps and the two of you snap to look at her. You're just glad you can breathe again.

"Hey, I like the little eyeline-monster, it'll be fun, Aubs." Stacie must have felt the tension as well and you're surprised when Aubrey gives in after that.

The four of you exit the Starbucks shortly after and Cynthia-Rose is the first to walk off with a "Later, aca-bitches!" and a raise of both her hands. You wave at her and then head home yourself. "See you at practice, ladies." You tell them with a smile and Aubrey reminds you what time to be in the gym while Stacie complains about how she needs at least two hours just to get ready for the party. You smile as you watch the two of them bicker and walk out of your sight. Their dorm is on the other side of campus, so you're by yourself.

You don't mind it, but you'd rather be around people.

You're not good on your own.

* * *

As you approach your dorm, you check your phone. It's almost five o'clock and Beca is probably still asleep. She can rest a little less than two more hours, since you have to be at practice seven p.m. sharp. It's just a short one for today, since none of the girls wanted there to be a practice in the first place. You agreed with them, since the party starts at nine and less than an hour is a short window for everyone to shower and get ready.

But Aubrey insisted you need the practice, whereas she's right, because the show is on Saturday and you're nowhere near ready. You had no choice but to take her side on this, however you compromised to make it a short one. No work out and just the dance routine as a group, no private assessments. You do the dance five times and everyone keeps their head with it and no goofing around. You eyed Fat Amy when you told the girls that and they were all happy to take the deal.

You smile at the thought of what a good team you and Aubrey make.

You enter the building and immediately start to tiptoe towards your room. The building is rather empty since most people have classes around this time, but there's weird noises coming from somewhere around. You can't tell what it is.

As you pass the big, joined living room for everyone in this dorm, the sounds get louder and louder. You can't quite make out what the sounds are nor where they're coming from, but you stop in your tracks when you've realized it.

Standing in front of the door leading into your own room, the sounds are clearer and there's swearing and cussing. You open the door quickly, without thinking through as to what could be happening behind it, and you're not sure what shocks you more.

The mess in the room attracts your eye. There's broken mugs and a few cans of Red Bull on the floor and you spot some sort of equipment you're sure belongs to Beca. The nearly unpacked bag that's been lying at the end of her bed for all this time, is now lying in the kitchen and her laptop is between both your beds.

You hope it's not broken.

A second later, your eye meets the shape of your roommate and she's actually scaring you. She's pacing the room with her eyes focused on the floor, her hands turned into fists as they move through her hair every now and then. She's cussing. Not in the form of a sentence. She's actually only cussing.

"Fucking piece of fucking shit, God forsaken idiotic fucking crap, God fucking damn it."

In between those swears, there's a lot of grunting and you're scared her hands will burst apart due to all the pressure she's putting on them.

You do the only thing you can think of, which is perhaps the dumbest thing you could ever do and quite possibly will be the reason for your quick and following death.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" She snaps and pushes you at least a foot away from her.

In her defense, she's made it pretty clear she's not one for physical contact, and you just grabbed her wrists and stood fairly close to her. Still, you're shocked she did that and it must show, because her face changes. You think there's a hint of fright and concern, but you're having trouble reading her right now.

"Fuck." Beca mumbles as she presses her fist into her forehead and picks up the pace again, her feet moving out of line and without direction.

You're surprised her moving stays within the four walls that belong to you. You figured she'd be out the door as fast as she could.

"Hey, it's fine." You say, unsure of what you're talking about and unsure about whether it is in fact fine. It doesn't matter. All that matters is calming Beca down right now. You slowly move towards her again, this time she's aware of you closing in and she backs up.

(It's almost like your personal dance again, but this doesn't feel the same.)

You've got her cornered and there's anger radiating off of her body. "It's alright." You speak as your hands move slow and steady to get her hair out of her face. Her face is all hot and sweaty, but she looks pretty, even if she's angry and out of control.

"Get your hands off of me!" She starts to wave her hands through the air in front of her with nothing to impact, because you were quick to remove your hands from her. But she doesn't push you away again. You think she didn't mean to do that earlier. "You think just because I'm pissed, you can get all in my face and bribe me to have sex with you, again."

"Bribe you?!" You spit back. That's not fair, you didn't bribe anyone. She wanted it, too, and to imply she didn't just because she's angry is not cool.

"Yeah, you like this, right? It's a game to you. I'm angry, you think you can calm me down, I insult you and then we have sex. That's it, right?"

You stare at her for a second, wondering if she's serious about her words. You can tell she's ignoring your gaze, keeping her eyes trained on whatever is behind you in the room. She reminds you of a child who said something hurtful to their parents just to distract the conversation from them.

Maybe she is.

In that case, getting angry and fighting back won't help, no matter how much her words hurt. "Beca, I care about you."

"You don't fucking know me!"

With that, she's slipped past you and your eyes follow her and watch how she picks up her laptop and throws it on the bed, kicking the bag that's still in the kitchen, followed by a punch to the wall. You watch how small bubbles of blood start to build on her hand.

You hear her sigh and you think that she has had the worst. Maybe she needed to get everything out and now she's okay again. You're still not sure you should be moving towards her again, since she's scared you, only just a little, but then you're next to her and your hands fold around her right wrist. It's a good thing you're standing in the kitchen, so it's ten times easier to take care of her bleeding knuckles.

_You don't think she'd allow you to drag her halfway through the room just to get to the tap._

You softly rub the blood off and keep her hand steady underneath the waterfall. She hasn't made an attempt to get out of your grip yet, so maybe you were right. Maybe she's okay again.

You don't know why it's so important to you that she's okay.

You notice how blue the veins in her hand are. It's like you can actually see how hard her body's working to pump blood to her hand. They're bluer than the ink of a pen and you wonder if it hurts her, if she feels how hard her body is trying to keep her steady, to fix her bruises.

You keep her hand under the cold water until you're certain it's stopped bleeding, which is when you look up to finally meet her eyes.  


You smile.  


You were right.  


Her face is softer, her eyes are her normal color again and she seems to be in control of herself again. It's funny how quickly someone can lose that darkness.

"Welcome back." You grin and she rolls her eyes in return, but you saw the small shift in her lips. It was almost a smile. Almost.

She retracts her hand from you, but it's slow and you let her. She sighs again and grabs her luggage from the floor as she heads to her side of the room and sits down on her bed, her bag lays once again in its usual spot.

You follow her lead and sit down on your own bed. You're not sure if she wants to talk about what just happened and why she was so mad. She's quiet, so you reckon she doesn't.

A few minutes go by and you've never been so uncomfortable in your life. Your body and basically everything inside of you is screaming to talk to this girl, ask her the million questions you've got going through your mind. What made her so mad is the first thing on your agenda. Yet you keep your mouth shut, playing with your fingers and your eyes fixated on the movements as you await for Beca to start.

"Look, I'm sorry. I should never have pushed you."

About ten minutes have passed since you've both sat down, but Beca has finally broken the silence. It was about time, because you were not sure how much longer you could have kept quiet.

"It's okay." You whisper as you scan her body language. You can't quite read it.

"Don't fucking say it's okay!" She yells in frustration.

Really? This girl is giving you whiplash after whiplash. "Excuse me?" You say in confusion. You have now completely lost her. Maybe you should be the one leaving this time. (Who are you kidding, of course you won't.)

"Don't say it's okay when it's not. You can't let people use you like that." The last part is in a whisper and you don't know why you empathize with her. You can't even understand her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"Don't-" She starts laughing right after her interruption and you can actually feel your neck starting to hurt from all the back and forth swinging. "Don't apologize. I was apologizing. I had no right to put my hands on you. Do you accept my apology?"

You nod and you're glad she's looked up to see it, so you didn't have to try and speak. You're not sure you're emotional stable to form words right now. Beca isn't nearly as badass as she wants to come across as.

"You see the difference?" She's looking at you now, her lips are pursed and her eyes shine so bright, you thank whatever it was that caused you to be seated, because you're pretty sure your knees would have given in immediately at the sight. "You can forgive me. You can't say it's okay."

You return her smile and a giggle escapes after you've stared at each other for a few seconds. She just snorts and shakes her head.

"You wanna talk about what happened?" You ask her carefully, hoping you're not crossing any lines here.

"It's a stupid thing, it's nothing." She says fast as gets up and starts to collect all the pieces of the fallen mugs. You're on your feet to help her when your hand lands on the item that caught your attention first when you got in the room. The equipment you're sure has something to do with Beca's night life. You scan it and wonder what it could be. It has colored pads, tiny knobs and a small display. The whole thing is no bigger than for instance a normal sized laptop, yet there's so much there. There's buttons everywhere. You recognize a few, because of the play/pause and forward/back signs, but the rest is like Chinese to you. You spot some buttons that can shift up and down, and you think this must be what she has in her second bag whenever she leaves the dorm.

You suddenly notice Beca's eyes on you and you've probably been staring at the tool for a good minute. In one smooth move, you place the item on the floor next to you and you meet Beca's eyes with a smile.

You don't need her to explain anything right now.

You help her with the shards of glass and when the room is clean again, you watch how your roommate picks up the last thing that's lying on the floor. She sighs and sits down on her bed, hands moving over the item you held last to wipe it clean.

"Is it broken?" You ask. She snorts with a straight face.

"No, it's- It won't break that easily, I paid a good five hundred bucks for this piece of shit, it can get along with my temper."

"Five hundred?!" You're quite in shock at the price tag the tiny item holds.

"Yeah it's uhm-" She shifts in her bed, back against the wall and she waits, eyes on the tool and both hands around it. You shouldn't take it as an invitation, but you do. When you're placed next to her, she continues. "-It's a hybrid groove production work station. I make my mixes with it."

You feel the corners of your lips lift as you nod. You thought there'd be more, but Beca keeps quiet, eyes still on the machine and fingers trailing over the colored pads. You think she's probably a million miles away, lost in thought.

"What are those for?" You ask and she looks up to you for a second to see what you're hinting at.

"Oh, that's to make beats with."

You wonder why they're different in color, but you don't think Beca's up for a conversation. So you head to your own bed and mimic her position; back against the wall to face her. It's pretty clear to you now that Beca's little outrage has something to do with her night job. You won't bother to ask her about it. You know better than that.

"I'm going to go for a run." You state as you watch her eyes dart to yours. They're quite empty and you can't see anything in it except that they're brown. You think about asking her if she's okay, but then she shrugs carelessly and you think she'll be fine. "You're free to join?"

"No, thanks." She snorts as she opens her laptop.

You tell her what time the practice starts and she shoots back a round of groans and 'must I really's, but it's minimal and she's got a small grin on her face.  


You leave the room feeling rather please with yourself. Beca's okay. Beca has calmed down. Beca will be at practice. And after that, you're going to a party with all your friends. Today is a good day.

* * *

 

* * *

  
You dream of your mother again that day. You wish you could figure out why. Maybe it's because her birthday is coming up. You can't remember what the dream was about, but you woke up sweaty and you think you might have screamed.

You're angry, because that was only an hour and a half of sleep, and you feel worse than before. Although you could theoretically sleep for at least four more hours, you know trying to is useless. You'll either be wide awake staring at the ceiling or, if you do pass out, you know you'll just see your mom again in your dreams.

That always happens.

Instead, you get your laptop and your mix equipment out and decide to work on your next few songs. The monthly 90's Night is coming up and you haven't gotten anywhere besides a mash-up between Boulevard of Broken Dreams and Oasis's Wonderwall, and Chasing Cars mixed with Every Breath You Take. God knows how many more people have done that before; yours aren't even that special, they're better, sure, but not amazing.

You put on a 90's playlist when six songs later Fast Car by Tracy Chapman comes on and you have the perfect remix of it in mind. You feel that vibrate in your fingers that just ache for you to get it out before you forget it, so you grab all your stuff and get to work.

Turns out, while you have still got the perfect mix in mind, your hands and your stupid production station won't get it right and you're starting to get angry. More angry at yourself for not getting the beats right and the singing cut up the way you want than at the mixing tool. You need them to have the same long pause as you have it in your head, but somehow you either click the buttons too soon or too early and it doesn't sound like you need it to. Every time you think you have the beats nailed down, you let it play and it's not correct. You can't even explain it, it's just _not_ the way you have it in mind.

It's dumb and you don't wanna get angry over something dumb, although, who are you kidding, you get angry over dumb stuff all the time. And you are angry at your own inability to make this happen, but it's easier to aim your fury at something you can grab and throw and tear apart. Something that you can physically hold and break.

Your bag goes across the room first. It's not as satisfying as you thought it would be. The anger is still bubbling inside of you. You need something that will break, which is when you spot some mugs on the counter. You try to get yourself together, pacing the room as if that has ever or will ever calm you down.

It doesn't.

So, the mugs go second. Hearing them clatter and clash across the floor is more refreshing than the bag you threw earlier, but the raging tornado is still inside you.

The controller you use to mix follows. You can't even count how many times you've thrown that damn thing to the wall in your old house, you're positive the thing can handle your anger better than the Nokia phone you had as a child. (That thing broke after like six pounds of your right foot.)

The sound it makes isn't impressive and you're getting even more angry because of it. You know deep down you don't want it to break, _hell,_ that's the last thing you want, but your temper is getting the better hand of you and you need something to completely shatter over the floor.

You eye falls on your laptop, but you're just sane enough to realize you can't afford to get a new one. Not because you don't have the money, but because all your mixes are on there and Kevin would kill you if you had nothing to play.

So you find yourself back in the kitchen, because at least the mugs breaking lifted your spirit and maybe you'll calm down after a few more hit the ground.

You don't.

You don't know how many minutes, hours, days have passed when you suddenly feel someone standing in the doorway. You don't have to look up to see who it is. It can only be the annoying ginger who happens to share this room with you.

You are _so_ not ready to deal with her questions and rants and puppy eyes.

You need a way to figure out how to get the beats right, how to get it to sound like it did in your head. Even if your fingers will finally listen when you tell them to move, you're not sure how you'll get the lyrics cut up the way you want. You need some parts faster and other parts slower. You need pauses and-

You don't process what happens next very well, but you're aware that there's someone touching you. You don't know where their hands are, or who they belong to, but you react on instinct. You don't know what you've done until you see your roommate's face, filled with shock and, yes, there it is. Fear.

You scared her. You _are_ scaring her.

"Fuck." It slips past your lips and you think you're moving again, but you're not sure. Your head continues to spin whether your standing still or you're pacing. For a split second, you think about how you did to your dad what you just did to Chloe. You didn't mean to hurt him, but he shouldn't have brought up your mom while Sheila was around. You think he knows you are sorry about that. You hope Chloe knows as well.

But then your mind takes over again and you can only think about how the remix sounded in your head and how you tried to reenact it, but you fucked up. You always fuck up. All your mixes are just mashed together, there's nothing special about it. You've seen remixes online that are better than yours, for crying out loud. Your dad was right. DJ'ing is just a hobby and you'll never be good enough to make it in the field. Yes, you already get paid for spinning, but that's Kevin and he's just paying you because he knows you.

"Hey, it's fine."

It's Chloe's voice, you hear it in the back of your mind somewhere, but the voices inside are louder. So you keep your eyes on her as she approaches you, focused on her lips to see if she says anything else. You feel the wall stopping your movements. You didn't even know you were walking, but with the wall behind you and Chloe in front of you, you feel cornered.

Then her hands are on you, and you wish you could push her away again, because the rage is still inside of you and she shouldn't come near you. You don't know what you are capable of doing when you're like this, but it can't be anything good, so you just need her out of your space.

The only other way you know how to get that done, is with words. They don't seem to work today, however. When the redhead tells you she supposedly cares about you, you've heard enough and you get out of the cornered position. You pick your laptop up on the way, because you are going to need that later and you don't want that to be the target of your anger again. Instead, you choose something that will hurt you unless itself.

And hurting it will. Later. Right now, you could hit that wall a thousand times and not feel a damn thing.

You don't, however, because you try to catch your breath and your vision gets clear and you think your episode is over. You didn't even realize your hand was bleeding, but apparently Chloe did and now she's taking care of it.

You let her.

You don't know why.

You don't even feel the cold water running over your hand and fingers. It's like you've been outside for too long and you're freezing and you can barely even feel your own hand, let alone the water washing over you. But you feel Chloe's hands on you, surprisingly. How they brush over your skin and how her eyes follow the movements. It's quite hypnotizing, you allow yourself to watch just because she doesn't see it anyway.

Then she looks up and whispers "Welcome back" with a grin and it's so cheesy, you almost start vomiting right there and then. She looks at you with the same face she's been wearing since day one, where she seems intrigued and excited and interested in your life. Your life is not for entertainment, and you'd rather just walk out the room. But you owe her a real apology.

You're pretty sure you've sat on the bed in silence for eternity when you finally get the words out. "Look, I'm sorry. I should never have pushed you." You mean them. Chloe is a nice person and she doesn't deserve your crap.

Telling her you're sorry actually makes you feel good, which is weird. Maybe you should have told your dad you were sorry right after the incident. It's not like you weren't sorry, it's just that you didn't care much back then. About anything. Most definitely not your dad or Sheila. He has never brought it up, not until this day. It's like it never even happened. Except you know it happened. You can still picture his bruised face the next morning at breakfast. You did the only thing you knew how to and ran a couple blocks to the mall where you spent hours in the music store.

"It's okay." Chloe tells you and you feel the muscles in your stomach start to tense up again. What the fuck does she mean it's okay? It's not okay, you fucking pushed her. She can't just tell you it's okay. What if she does that to everyone who pushes her? What if she already has? What if people think it's okay to put their hands on her? What if people already have? Just like that, your anger is back as bad as before, but the look on her face tells you to calm down.

You don't wanna scare her again.

You (kind of) explain yourself and then she's apologizing, which just makes you laugh. This woman is so innocent, it's like you kicked a puppy and it comes back to lick your face, thinking it did something wrong. _God damn it, Mitchell, you kicked a damn puppy_. You ask her if she understands the difference between accepting an apology and saying it's okay. You remember all the times your dad was too busy to check out your musical recitals, and you told him it was okay, when it really wasn't. He was all you had, and he didn't even have the balls to make up an actual excuse to be there for you. It was always the same. _"I'm sorry honey, I can't, I'm busy that day."_ When you were finally old enough to realize it wasn't okay, you just stopped telling him about your days in general.

He never cared, anyway.

You decide to clean up the mess you made and of course _puppy Beale_ is right next to you, helping you out. Her hands find the production station you threw to the floor in the middle of your break down, but she doesn't ask any questions about it. You smile involuntarily at her friendliness, but you hope she doesn't think she can't talk to you anymore or dismiss that cheery part of herself just because you're an asshole and she's scared of what you'll do if she opens her mouth.

You know you could never hurt her, but does she know that, too?

At last, she asks you if it's broken when you're on your bed with the production station and you know it's not. You think it would be good if you told her what it is, because you know she's just hinting at it, so you'll talk. You shift your body to the wall and wait for her to take the seat next to you.

She does.

You talk to her and your mind goes back to the day you bought the thing. It was the day you turned eighteen and the money your mom had put aside became available for you. You didn't want to spend it on anything, in fact you didn't want the money at all. But there was a little note with it that said _"buy something that will improve you as a person, my darling"_ and you didn't have to think twice as to what it was.

You had been staring at the Native Maschine Mk2 for months, and your badly mixed songs didn't pay back then as they do now, so you didn't exactly have the money to buy it. You quickly wonder if it was a mistake buying the equipment, if your mother thinks of it as a mistake. It didn't really improve you at all. You're still the same fucked up person you were then as you are now. Your songs are just better produced, that's all.

"I'm going to go for a run."

The words bring you back to earth and you wonder when she made her way onto her own bed. Then you realize you don't actually care and you need to get back to your mixes. You can still hear your perfect version of Fast Car in your head and you need to get it out before it'll be lost in memory forever.

Chloe leaves the room shortly after the note that you only have about an hour until practice starts. Like you don't have anything better to do than dance around and sing an old song. But you'll go, hoping you will have the remix finished by then.

You start off with playing the original song once again. Immediately, you can hear the remix you thought of when you played it earlier. You cut the song off near the end to play the latest mix you made before your little outburst. It's not bad enough that it was worth your tornado of anger, but it's still not the way you need it to be. You decide to keep yourself calm and edit the song once again. It seems to work. Somehow, your fingers act on your impulses and after just one try, the beats are perfectly timed.

Next up are the lyrics. Speeding them up goes just fine, but somehow they still don't match the level of perfection you hear in your head. You try a few different techniques, but no matter what you do, you can't get them to sound like you want them to. It's almost as if the voice is off, which is something you can't do a lot about. You could try and cover the song the way you want to and then put the remix over it, but you're not sure your voice would be better. You know you can sing alright, but you're not a big fan of your own sound.

Whatever. You'll think of that later. Right now, you need a shower. You haven't had one today.

You grab some clean clothes and shower supplies and head down to the shower stalls. It's rather empty, as one would expect on a Thursday afternoon. You take the stall you've mentally claimed as yours since the first time you choose that one. Unconsciously, you sing along to the song in your head and try to see if you can make that cover work.

It sounds alright, you reckon, and you think you could give it a try and see how it sounds when you've recorded your own voice. You will do that later. Maybe after the practice. Maybe after the party. You'll see. You're just pumped you have a good plan on how to get to this version in your head, now.

You exit the shower fifteen minutes after you've gotten in and almost immediately body slam someone on your way out. It's only after you've been able to readjust your towel around your body that you see who the other person is.

"Hey!" She exclaims enthusiastic.

"Beale." You state nonchalant. "You know practice starts at seven sharp. You're gonna be late." You grin slightly as your eyes skim over the towel she has thrown over her shoulder.

"I'm super quick." She says and then she winks. You have to gulp because of that action and you think she could tell. "Sad to see I'm a little too late." Now she's the one who gets to roam her eyes over you. You suddenly feel really naked.

(Well, apart from the towel, you technically _are_ naked.)

"Yeah well,-" You start when you realize you don't actually have any flirty comment. Chloe seems really good at playing sexy, and you can barely keep up, let alone play along. "-you made it clear I couldn't be late to practice." You don't think you had anything better in you, and your roommate smiles, so it can't be that bad. She steps into your space and trails her fingers up and down your arm. You blame the goosebumps you get on the change of hot air in the shower and the cool stream in here.

"We can be a little late." She says as she wraps both arms around your neck and stays perfectly still. You know this is her awaiting you to kiss her, but she looks too damn smug and disgustingly confident that you can't just allow her that pleasure.

"You know we're gonna have to explain to Aubrey why exactly we are late." You say as you rest your hands on her hips, and she squirms under your touch. You can't help but smile at that and when she starts to dig her nails in your neck, you do the same at her lower back.

"We don't have to give her any details." She says in a sudden low voice and you just know she's gonna cave first. You push her forward against you and the giggle she lets out turns your insides around. You ignore it.

Chloe runs her hands through your hair and you scratch your nails from her back over to her hips until she's pressed against you. She lets out a moan and when her eyes reopen, they are darker than you've ever seen them before and filled with lust. You look at each other for a couple more seconds and then you both break out in laughter.

Which is kind of crazy; you, half naked, and her standing in the hallway leading to the shower stalls and you're laughing like insane people.

Somehow, it doesn't matter much to you.

Then the laughter dies out and she catches your lips with hers.

 

_You are so going to be late for practice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far I'm doing good with updating once a week, who would have thought ;) Let me know as usual what you think, maybe your favorite part? Maybe what you'd like to see (more)?
> 
> Side note: Inspiration about the Fast Car mix came because I fell in love with the Jonas Blue ft. Dakota remix. You should all check it out, it is sooo good! 
> 
> See y'all next week!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Sometimes ‘I’m sorry’ means more than ‘I love you.’" - B. E. Barnes
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a little later than planned, guys. Worked about 80hrs in a week and had zero time to edit, but it's here now! Enjoy!

“Aubrey, we’re so sorry.” You say as you practically run into the gym followed by a careless Beca who barely makes an effort to follow your quick pace.  
  
“Where were you? The class is almost over, Chloe!” Aubrey snaps like you could have predicted, walking up to you and Beca, leaving the girls lingering in the background.  
  
“I’m sorry we had to-“ Suddenly the perfectly fine excuses you made up on the way to the gym don’t seem to come out when Aubrey is in your face and staring at you with that judging look. You feel like shrinking a foot or so.  
  
“Oh, yeah it’s my fault. I got uh, in a fight with someone on the way over. Some stupid frat boy.”  
  
You’re glad Beca’s words have the power to get Aubrey’s eyes off of you, but _really?_ Did she have to make up a completely fictional story? Your excuses were at least along the lines of the truth, which is technically still a lie, but also not really. You would just leave some bits out.  
  
“Beca, I know you don’t care about these practices, but making Chloe late is really not acceptable.”  
  
You watch how Beca sighs and her body starts to tense up like it always does when she goes into her defense mechanism. “Bree, that’s not how it went.” You are not sure whether you’re about to publicly announce your sex deal with your new roommate or if you’ll just tell her your very lame and unbelievable reason as to why you were late. As if Aubrey would believe you’d forgotten the time while you were showering. Even though you _did_ forget the time, but it had nothing to do with a shower.  
  
“Beale, it’s fine. Aubrey is right.” Beca states and you can physically feel your pupils growing three sizes. “Won’t happen again, Coach.” She finishes and then she’s off to join the girls, leaving you and your best friend in perplexity. Aubrey looks as confused as you feel, but then she flips back to her proud and confident state of mind and walks over to the group as a peacock.  
  
“Okay, since we’re all finally here, let’s do the complete performance twice.”  
  
You have less than a minute to contemplate what just happened and why Beca didn’t take the bait to fight Aubrey, because Fat Amy clicks the music on at your best friend’s request and you notice her devilish grin before you process the song that’s playing. Your feet move without the order to, and your hand hits the stop button on the tiny radio before the first lines are even sung.  
  
“Bree, what is this?” To be frank, you know what this is. This is your best friend screwing with you. Or, actually with your roommate, but it feels aimed at you as well.  
  
“Oh, right.” Aubrey says with a planned smile and a fake shake of the head that would imply she forgot to simply tell you, which you know is not the case. This is on purpose. You’re not an idiot. “The girls and I decided we would perform Turn The Beat Around instead, since The Sign is nowhere near performance ready. We had a quick vote about it, but-“ She pauses and her eyes fall on Beca in a pleased shrug. “-you two weren’t there.”  
  
“Aubrey, this is crazy. You said it yourself, we can’t change songs a few days upfront.”  
  
“Yes, but we’ve done this song a few times before. We’ll keep the steps easy and everyone knows their part in the song.”  
  
You can see Beca from the corners of your eyes. You think, if she wasn’t nailed to the ground, she might start running away again. Your best friend is right for the big part, though. The girls and you have performed that song before and it actually goes better than The Sign for the most part. That’s mainly because since the beginning of the year, the girls have had problems with The Sign. The choreography is rather hard, so you understand. What you don’t understand, however, is how Aubrey can do this without seeing the obviously problem here. “Bree, Beca has never done that song before.”  
  
You watch your best friend fake gasp as she repeats your roommate’s name. Honestly, you don’t understand how she can make a public charade off of this. Beca doesn’t deserve this.  
  
“Beca! I totally forgot about you!”  
  
“It’s fine, I can sit one out.” Beca speaks up as her eyes dart from one Bella to the other, all staring at her.  
  
“I think that might be for the best.” Aubrey responds and then you and the rest of the group start to protest.  
  
_“Beca is to us what Wally is to the Wallabies, except there’s no ‘roos trying to steal her.”  
  
“We could really use her voice in this.”  
  
“She’s one of us!”  
  
“I once ate a spider the size of her.”_  
  
(That last one is a guess, Lilly is not one to talk above 30 decibels.)  
  
  
The look on Beca’s face makes you proud of your team. There’s an amount of surprise on there that you think is maybe always present. Or at least since you’ve met her. But there’s white in her dark colored pupils and her lips are relaxed, the corners even a little bit lifted if you look close enough, and her eyebrows don’t disappear into her hairline.  
  
She looks.. Secure.  
  
And she is. You’ve always wanted this to be a place where people would feel safe. A place without judgement or hate. Just a place for people to be themselves without having to worry about it.  
  
That’s what the Bellas mean to you.

* * *

  
The rest of the time that’s left is spent by the group teaching Beca the moves and she picks up pretty fast. Occasionally you hear Fat Amy crack a joke and even your roommate laughs a little.  
  
This is going well.  
  
“She’s going to ruin us, Chloe.”  
  
You and Aubrey have been standing on the side observing the group, but it’s not until now that you realize you’ve been silent this entire time. The words your best friend speaks are stupid and you want to snap at her for thinking that way. Yet her voice cracks and you think there’s some sincerity in. As if she actually believes it. Not out of spite, not in an attempt to get you to kick her out. Simply, because she actually thinks so.  
  
“Bree, she won’t. She’s going to make us better. I promise.”  
  
Aubrey stays quiet at that and you lock your hands together, so she knows you’re on her side and telling the truth.  
  
You know Beca is an amazing singer and she’s a fast learner. You would never have made that deal with her if you didn’t think she’d help get you to the Nationals. You are certain of it.  
  
When Fat Amy starts to goof around with Lilly, pretending she’s a puppet and she is her puppeteer, using the gym’s utensils to make more of an act out of it, you and Aubrey decide it’s time to call it quits. You check the time and it’s just after seven thirty. You hope Stacie can manage to get ready within this timeframe.  
  
The girls are out within a matter of seconds and Aubrey tells you to go, too. You’d rather not leave her to clean up on her own, but you know that she can get party-ready in less than ten minutes. You’ve witnessed it first-hand over the course of the years of friendship. You think it’s because your best friend always looks good. Some people need layers of make-up or at the very least a shower, but even if Aubrey’s just woken up, she looks great and ready to go. You wish you had that gift.  
  
You make it outside and to your surprise Beca is waiting outside. You don’t wanna assume she’s waiting for you, but when you reach her and she starts to set in a pace, you think maybe she did.  
  
“You’re uncharacteristically nice today.” You say as friendly as you possibly can. You don’t want Beca to think this is an attack. You’re quite proud of yourself for figuring out ways to approach this girl in the short span you’ve known her now.  
  
“It’s probably just the aftermath of those three orgasms you gave me earlier, don’t think too much of it. I’ll be back to my asshole self in an hour or so.”  
  
You can’t help but laugh at that and she gives you a tight-lipped shrug with a wink to match. The memory of what the two of you did earlier replays in your mind now and you can practically feel her freshly cleaned body against yours, her teeth biting your jaw, her fingernails bringing your shoulder blades to bleed as she came.  
  
“What ‘cha smiling about there, Beale?”  
  
Her question snaps you out of that moment and you can feel your cheeks start to fluster, which is rare. You don’t get flustered easily, because you are practically immune to embarrassment. Yet here you are, with a face turning red and Beca raising an eyebrow at how weird you’re acting. This is so unlike you, you decide to change it right away.  
  
“Just thinking about how I got you off.”  
  
“Wow!” Beca gasps. “Don’t hold back.” She chuckles and you like that sound. You want to hear that more often, you decide.  
  
The rest of the walk, you take advantage of Beca being in a good mood by talking to her about who’s coming to the party and what you usually do.  
  
_“Oh God, we’re not gonna be singing, are we?”  
  
“You’re kidding, there’s more singing idiots than just us?!”  
  
“I hope they bought enough alcohol.”_  
  
They are still snarky and quite rude, but at least they’re responses, which you know is special when it comes to Beca.

* * *

  
“So, really, what are you going to wear?” You ask as you disappear into the closet to check out what outfits you’ve got.  
  
“What does it matter?” She asks from out the other room.  
  
“I’m not saying we have to match, but I don’t have a lot of colors that go with black.”  
  
“Every color goes with black.” She states and you smile and shake your head, knowing she won’t be able to see it. “Fine, no black.” She says after a few moments of silence. You have to peek around the corner to find she’s actually serious. You can tell by the look on her face.  
  
She’s got her arm down her bag that’s placed perfectly on the end of the bed where it has been since she came busting in through that door. She’s in there up until her elbow and you wonder why she doesn’t just empty it.  
  
“You know half this closet is yours, right?” She doesn’t respond as you head back in to find a fitting outfit. If Beca’s not wearing black, you have a feeling she’ll go with dark blue or something. “I’m just saying, there’s easier ways to find something in there, Beca.” Still no answer, but you think you hear a sigh. You know better than to push her, but you’re curious about that bag to say the least. “I could even help you-“  
  
“Yeah, you’d like that, don’t you?” She cuts you off. “Didn’t get a good look inside with your friend’s hands all up in it?”  
  
You have to exit the small space to see her fists are clenched and her pupils are dark again. You wonder if what’s in that bag is that big of a secret that you can’t see it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You say and you put on your soft smile before getting back to picking out some clothes. You have no desire to fight with Beca again.  
  
A few minutes go by until you notice she’s standing behind you, leaning against the wall of the doorway and eyes focused on the floor. “Look, I’m sorry.” She almost whispers. You take two steps to close the gap between you two and put your hands on her shoulders.  
  
“I accept your apology.” You say and when her eyes look up to meet yours, you wink and she lets out a breath you think she was holding in for way too long. You squeeze her shoulders once, trying to ignore how tense they are, and then you’re back to figuring out if a dress is a good idea in this cold time a year. You think jeans with the blue long sleeve shirt and a dark jacket might be the better pick.

* * *

  
By the time you’re fully dressed, Beca’s busy doing her hair by the mirror in the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder if her hair was always this long. She’s got some sort of bun going on with her hair falling smoothly over it. Somehow she’s managed to look even more beautiful to you. Her make up is already done and, like you expected, she’s wearing blue jeans and a shirt. You spot a blazer lying on the edge of her bed and you think she’s made some good decisions.  
  
“Spit it, Beale.” Beca sighs and you knew you were staring, but you didn’t think she was able to tell.  
  
“I was just waiting for you to tell me on your own.”  
  
She’s obviously confused at your words, because she turns around with one eyebrow up. Your eyes dart to her bag quickly and then back at her eyes. It takes her a few seconds before she realizes what you mean, which is when she rolls her eyes and groans. “Please, God, no.”  
  
“Don’t make me use my second question, Becs.”  
  
“What do you mean? You used up all your questions in one go, remember?!”  
  
“No, that was all part of question one.” You state with a smile and she death glares at you before sitting down on her bed. You try to hide your joy, because _this girl is so easy_.  
  
“Just to be clear here, this one counts as your second!” You nod and then she continues. “And no follow up questions! I answer and that’s it. Then we leave and get wasted.” Another nod with a small giggle that escapes your mouth. She takes a minute before she answers. “I just don’t like to pack and unpack, that’s all.”  
  
You’re deeply unsatisfied with that reply, because that’s not an answer at all. You don’t realize you’ve opened your mouth until you see Beca raising her hand with her index finger up, lips parted as if to interrupt you as soon as you say a word, so you quickly trap your lips between your teeth with your hand in front of it to make sure nothing escapes your unfiltered mouth.  
  
The right corner of Beca’s lips lift smug and then she’s off, jacket folded over her arm and door left open for you to follow her.  
  
You do.  
  
Beca offers you one of her earplugs as soon as you’re outside, but you don’t listen to any of the songs she plays. Your mind goes over the words she said last. _Pack and unpack. Pack and unpack_. What could she mean? You remember her telling you she wasn’t planning to stay here for long, but she wouldn’t leave now. Not when she has you, and the Bellas, and the job in the record store on campus.  
  
No, she wouldn’t leave.  
  
She must have simply meant she hates to pack and unpack.

* * *

  
You hand Beca back her earplug when you see the rest of the girls standing outside the gym where you’ve planned to meet up. Beca asks you if the party is held here. You shake your head and kiss her lips fleeting before taking off to tackle your best friend with a hug.  
  
(You don’t realize Beca’s still standing in the exact place you left her until the group is complete and you take off towards the party.)  
  
When you and the girls arrive, most of the other acapella singers are already there. You spot the Treblemakers that already seem pretty wasted scattered all over the dancing area, the High Notes are spread out over multiple rows of the concrete benches, feet resting on the row in front of them, most of them lying half on each other and probably smoking pot. And then there’s the BU Harmonics that seem to be fighting Donald over the laptop that plays the music.  
  
It’s not hard to guess they probably wanna hear some Madonna.  
  
You and Aubrey lead the group down the stairs where you get some drinks and start to move to the beats playing. It’s only then that you notice Beca’s standing halfway through the bleachers, talking to one of the new Treble boys. You think you heard somewhere along the way that his name is Jesse. He looks nice and Beca doesn’t seem to mind his presence, so you leave them to it.  
  
“I don’t trust it as well.” You hear Aubrey nag next to you.  
  
“What?” You stumble. _Crap. You have been staring right at them all this time, haven’t you?_  
  
“Beca and Jesse. I don’t trust it. Have you informed her about our rule, Chloe?”  
  
You haven’t. You didn’t think it was necessary since, well, you don’t want to assume since she has you to sleep with, she doesn’t need anyone else, but.. Yes, actually exactly that.  
  
“I’m sure it’s innocent, Bree. They’re just talking.”  
  
(Who are you convincing here?)  
  
You’re not a jealous person. You were never bothered with Tom hanging out with other girls, and there were probably many times when you **_should_** have been jealous and you just weren’t. You were dating, technically, but it never felt like anything official. You hung out with other guys and you know he saw some girls as well. But it was about having fun with him. And fun you had. Whether he took you to football games or clubs, or simply for a ride in his convertible, you always had fun with him. And you believe that’s what college is about; having fun. No restrictions. No rules. Except for one. And he broke that.  
  
What you have with Beca is totally different, though. This isn’t about having fun. This is about figuring her out. And maybe that’s why you’re feeling the way you do as you watch her chat with Jesse. Because her lips are moving as well. She’s talking to him. And she only knows him for five seconds or so. Does he know how much effort it took for you to get her to even look at you?  
  
You want to be the one who figures her out. Who solves her first. You’d be damned if you let some freshman with pretty hair and shiny white teeth steal her away from you.  
  
(Wait, what?)  
  
You know it’s stupid. You do. Beca isn’t yours. And she’s just talking to him. It’s not like her lips has been anywhere near the places on his body as they’ve been on yours.  
  
You feel more confident at the thought of that. But not any less settled.  
  
Your feet are already moving up the stairs and you’re glad the boy seems to be on his way down, because you’re not sure what kind of stupid thing you’d do or say. When you reach Beca, you pull her close to you by her hands and lock your lips together in one smooth move. She kisses back at first, but when your tongue swipes over her bottom lip, asking for entrance, she pulls away and you find her scanning the area behind you as if it’s light enough for anyone to see what you were doing.  
  
Maybe it is. Maybe you just don’t want to care.  
  
“Dude!” She gasps out, but her wet lips betray her as they form a small smile.  
  
“I think we’re gonna have great sex tonight.”  
  
“Well, it’s great every time we have sex.” She says with a wink and you kind of wish you’d stayed at home, so you could have her right now.  
  
You don’t think you’ve seen this sexy side of Beca yet. You decide you like it. Very much. But you hear someone sing Beca’s name in this weird way, and you’re reminded of how stupid it is to have gotten jealous over him and her. She’ll go home with you. That’s all that matters. “Why don’t you think about what you want me to do to you later, while I go get a drink. This ginger needs her jiggle juice.” You think about kissing her again, but the footsteps are pretty close and you don’t think Beca would be comfortable with it. So you spin around and greet Jesse on the way down.  
  
He looks friendly. And wasted.  
  
You spot Aubrey and the girls just when the music gets turned up and, with a drink in both hands, you move through the crowd to get to your friends. Dancing is possibly the most carefree thing in the world. You don’t ever want the music to stop playing.

* * *

 

* * *

You didn’t particularly lie. Chloe getting you off with your body pushed against those sinks is part of the reason you’re so well humored today. But the text you received from Kevin on your way over to practice while Chloe was freaking out about, _whatever,_ has just as much to do with it.  
  
**_Kevin: Flashin’ is in need of a DJ Sat night. I rec’d you (19:11)_**  
  
Flashin’ is ** _the_** club for people to be at during weekends. It has some of the best DJ’s of the state playing there, and now you might play there. You don’t know if you’re mentally prepared for it, but you got all the right mixes ready on your laptop and you know you can do this.  
  
So, yeah, you’re in a good mood today. And not even the blonde communist that happens to be your roommate’s best friend is going to ruin that. You could tell Chloe was losing it when the dictator approached you. Her face was frozen and you think she would possibly trip over her words if she was able to form any. Which is even more the reason to think something is wrong. Your roommate and being lost for words is not something you’ve had the pleasure of seeing yet.  
  
(You ponder for a second if this is her being scared, but that’s stupid. Who would be scared of their best friend?)  
  
So you take the fall, because who cares. Aubrey already hates you, anyway. And you could give less than a fuck. Besides, it’s not that off from the truth. Chances of you getting into a physical fight is overall more than 70 per cent. Maybe even more.  
  
What you didn’t expect to happen was the group of girls standing up for you and telling you nice things. It made you feel something inside. Nothing from what you usually feel. No organs turning or fires burning. It was calm. And silent. And warm.  
  
You try not to think too much of it.

* * *

  
You wait for the redhead after practice, because you probably should, right? Since you’re going the same way. You think about leaving probably a dozen times before Chloe makes it outside and the curl of her lips lets you know you made the right decision.  
  
_Not that you care._  
  
So, when she lets you know she’s noticed your good mood, you just tell her that it’s because of the sex earlier. You don’t know why you don’t just tell her about the gig Kevin may have gotten you. You don’t think she’d understand what great happiness you get from DJ’ing. No one ever has.  
  
You glare at her a few times and her eyes are glassy and her lips form this disgusting smirk, growing wider by the second. You wonder what she’s thinking about.  
  
“Just thinking about how I got you off.”  
  
_Okay, that didn’t cross your mind._  
  
(But now you’re thinking of it, too. Damn it, Beale.)  
  
You were planning on getting your music and plugs out, but Chloe’s mouth doesn’t stop moving and you don’t really know why you’re listening to what she’s saying. You think it’s because of her voice. You like her voice. Whatever she’s talking about, she’s always so enthusiastic and there’s no pauses or doubts. It’s like she’s planned every little thing. Like she’s sure of it. Then of course there’s the singing. No doubt about it, she has the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard. You don’t want to be cliché and idiotic, because, _really_ , what does an angel even sound like? Do they even sing? No one knows. Yet that’s the only thing you can compare it to.  
  
_God, you’re an idiot._  
  
You’re actually paying attention to the things she’s telling you about the party tonight, but then she slips her hand in yours and everything stops.  
  
Just for a second, you have nothing.  
  
No thoughts.  
  
No heartbeat.  
  
No blood running through your veins.  
  
  
And then it all comes back at once. It’s like the second before a tsunami hits land. Where everything is quiet and then there’s complete chaos. Thoughts running a thousand miles an hour that you can’t even make out what they’re singing, goosebumps covering your skin, shivers straitening your back like an electric shock while you break out in sweat.  
  
You look up to Chloe who doesn’t seem to notice a thing, probably unaware as to what she did, her mouth is still moving but you can’t hear a thing. You look at your joined hands, your intertwined fingers and the way her thumb moves over your skin softly.  
  
_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._  
  
That’s the only clear thought you have.  
  
Then there’s the thought of fleeing, running, pushing her away, or at the very least get your hand back.  
  
You don’t do either of those things.  
  
You don’t actually understand why not.

* * *

  
Of course your roommate **_has to_** ruin your mood by getting nosy about your bag. You really don’t wanna get mad at her, but she pushes you to that point and you snap. You seriously start to hate your temper. You need to get your shit together.  
  
Of course, the right thing to do after that is apologize, yet somehow that’s one of the most difficult things for you. Especially when Chloe hasn’t spotted you and she’s just happily going through her clothes. You don’t get the words out until you feel her eyes on you.  
  
“I accept your apology.”  
  
God, she’s such a nerd. Whatever. You’re just glad you’re not going to a party with any hard feelings.  
  
You grab some clothes that aren’t black, which is not a hard decision, because you don’t have a lot besides black. And you do your hair, thinking it’s the least you could do.  
  
“Spit it, Beale.” You say after she’s been staring at you for a full five minutes.  
  
Turns out it’s about the stupid bag again, and you really don’t want to talk about that. You already told her that you won’t be here for long and what’s the point in getting settled if you’re leaving soon, anyway? She knows you’re not here to stay. The moment the school informs your dad that you’re failing, you can leave and move to LA and do what you really want to do. What you were made to do.  
  
Producing music, hopefully. But making music at the least.  
  
And none of the insanity you do here will matter anymore. Not your roommate, not the group of losers you sing with, not even Luke and the store.  
  
Everything will still go on without you. Everything will still be fine.  
  
“I just don’t like to pack and unpack, that’s all.”  
  
Her mouth opens immediately and you can’t wait to shut her up, but she doesn’t let any words come out. You leave the room before she changes her mind about keeping her damn mouth shut.

* * *

  
You spot the group of little misfits standing outside the building where practice is as Chloe hands you your earplug. You ask if the party is inside, which would be pretty lame. Who hosts a party in a smelly gym? But luckily it’s not. You don’t think there would be enough alcohol _in the world_ to get you through an evening like that.  
  
Before you can resume your pace, Chloe does something irrational and dumb.  
  
She kisses you.  
  
Not one of those kisses that lead to sex. Just, a simple peck on the lips. Why would she do that? You’re confused and kind of angry, because you don’t know what’s going on. This deal was to have sex. Kissing that doesn’t lead to sex is a thing couples do, right? You’re not a couple. Far from it. Miles and miles from it.  
  
Then she hops towards the group of girls and you can let some air into your lungs again.  
  
You’re overanalyzing.  
  
Does it really matter if she kisses you? You guess not. Her lips are warm and taste like strawberries, and you like strawberries. And she’s a good kisser, there’s no denying that. She’s really experienced, unlike you. The way they move against yours is almost professional. Like everything Chloe does, it feels planned and in control.  
  
She really has her shit together.  
  
You wish you could say the same.  
  
You follow the girls to where the music comes from and you have to go down some stairs to reach what is apparently a dance floor. You have no desire to join the mass, so you stop halfway through. Fat Amy joins you and you feel like you have to say something. “I don’t know what I’m doing here.”  
  
“Just living the dream!” She tells you. “I can’t believe they let my sexy ass in!” And with that, she’s off. You think you like that girl. She says whatever she wants and she calls herself _Fat_ Amy. You respect that.  
  
You recognize some guy that’s climbing up towards you, screaming “Hey, I know you!” in repeat. You know who he is. He comes by the record store at least three times a week and he always puts the records in front of his face in an attempt to make you smile.  
  
Sometimes it works. Overall, he’s just getting on your nerves.  
  
“No, you don’t.” You tell him when he’s able to get his drunk body across the steps and within your reach.  
  
“Yeah, I do. I totally know you. You work at the record store!”  
  
You sigh. You definitely need some alcohol first.  
  
“Do my eyes deceive me or are you a Barden Bella?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I think you are. How did that happen? Did they pay you? Wait, are you hired?”  
  
“I think you’re really drunk right now, I don’t think you’re going to remember any of this.”  
  
“I’m not drunk, you’re just blurry.”  
  
You push him a little to test if he can stand on his own. He seems to manage as he repeats the words “see, and I come right back up” as the idiot he is. He’s quite funny, you’ll give him that.  
  
“Can I get you a drink?” He asks after you’re done with your little sobriety test.  
  
“Sounds good.”  
  
_Finally, some alcohol is on the way._  
  
You watch him stumble and falter as he makes his way down the bleachers. You can’t help but laugh at his dumb, drunken ass.  
  
You spot Chloe approaching you fast and she looks like a hyena going after its prey. Little did you know, she actually was, because she pulls you towards her and then you’re making out. Her hands got a firm grip on your wrists, which you kind of dislike, because you want to run your fingers through her hair and scratch her back and-  
  
_Shit._  
  
You pull back and check if there’s anyone around who could’ve seen the two of you.  
  
There isn’t.  
  
“Dude!” You say out loud. She can’t just publicly try and French you. That peck earlier was already enough to freak out over.  
  
She informs you there are plans to have sex later and it makes your stomach drop. The idea of it tinkles your thighs and maybe some other places as well, but you’re going to have to think of that later.  
  
She leaves shortly after, with a wink and a shake of her very fine ass, leaving you to stare at her as she walks down the stairs.  
  
You didn’t even realize Jesse was back with your drink until Chloe’s disappeared into the crowd.  
  
“Wow, what is going on there?” He asks suspicious.  
  
“What?” You snap back, taking the drink from him as you down it in one go.  
  
“With you and the hot ginger. Heard you got bunked with her. Must be hard not to stare all the time. Although you did just stare for like five minutes straight.”  
  
“Shut up.” You reply. You’re not in the mood to confess you have indeed been staring at your roommate in a very non-platonic way.  
  
“She the reason you’re a Barden Bella girl, Be-caw?”  
  
You hate the way he says your name, but his grin is big and you can’t help but laugh at him. He’s such a cheesy loser. “No, you got it on the first try. I’m actually a professional and they’re paying me to kick the other groups’ ass. Which, by the way, makes me wonder what you’re doing here.”  
  
“Oh.” He says as he empties his red cup and holds his finger up for you to wait. You do. “I’m a Treble.”  
  
“On purpose?”  
  
“Says Miss Professional Acapella Singer.” He shoots back with cringed eyes and a smile he’s not even trying to hold back.  
  
You chat with him for the next thirty minutes about music. He has good taste, that’s one thing, although it’s mostly classic hits and a bunch of songs from movie soundtracks you’ve never heard of before. You let him ramble, however. You reckon it’s better than standing here by yourself out in the cold.  
  
After a while, his voice gets softer and softer as your eyes find Chloe in the crowd. It’s weird how silent a party can get when there’s someone in your sight moving the way she is. Whatever she does, her hips continue to sway and her hair flips as if it’s set in slow motion. You remind yourself you really shouldn’t stare, but you can’t get your eyes to move off of your roommate’s body.  
  
“I’m gonna-“ It’s the only two words you’re able to get out as your fingers point at where Chloe is. You take your eyes off of her for a second to see the boy nodding and then you’re ordering your feet to move down the stairs.  
  
You think of how nice it is to have someone to talk to who isn’t constantly asking questions and trying to get you to spill your awful life story.  
  
But then your hands touch Chloe’s skin and you completely forget about the boy.  
  
“Hey, Becs! Everyone, Beca is here!”  
  
_Jesus, can no one here hold their liquor?_  
  
“Wanna get out of here?” You whisper close to her face and her arms are around you in no time.  
  
“Nope.” She states with a smile and you hear yourself sigh. _Of course_ she has to make this difficult.  
  
Your fingers itch to touch her, so you place your hands on her hips that are still swaying to the music. “You know, if we go back to the dorm right now, we c-“  
  
“Oh, Becs! This is our song!” The ginger interrupts you and you have to focus on the music for a second to realize it’s Titanium by David Guetta. You were singing that in the shower before she barged in there and offered you the deal. You like the song, of course you do. David Guetta is one of your favorite DJ’s and dance-pop producers of all time. But to say it’s **_your_** song? What does that even mean? You can’t _own_ a song.  
  
_What a dumb thing to say._  
  
You want to make a stupid comment, but the music is too loud and the redhead has her arms wrapped around your neck. You doubt you’re able to get words out.  
  
And then Chloe’s laughing and giggling, swaying her head and lifting her arms up in the air as she dances to the music. You keep her close to you with your hands still on her hips, afraid she’s going to fall down from the amount of alcohol in her blood.  
  
(Or just her voluntarily leaving you.)  
  
“Beca Mitchell.” Someone pops up from behind the dancing ginger and you have to blink a few times to see who it is.  
  
“Coach.” You reply, immediately pulling your hands back to your own space . “I was just looking out for Beale. Think she’s had one too many.”  
  
“I can see that.” She says, but she’s not looking at her best friend. She’s looking at you. Her eyes are shooting little rockets at you, trying to break you down to see what you’re hiding. You always thought you were a pretty good liar, up until now. She looks like she knows you’re fucking her best friend. Like she knows you’ve been undressing her with your eyes most of the evening. Like she can see the marks under your clothes that Chloe’s mouth brought you.  
  
She can be intimidating, you’ve known that since day one. But now you know why Chloe felt so small in her gaze. You feel the same way right now. But you won’t let her notice that.  
  
“I really hope you’re able to bring your A-game on Saturday, Beca.” She says your name as if it’s acid on her tongue. “It would be sad to see you go.” She ends with a laugh and an obvious fake pout before turning back where one of the girls instantly throws herself around her body. You think that one’s named Stacie. You’re not sure.  
  
You feel sick.  
  
Aubrey has a way to push your buttons and it makes you so angry. You could totally take her on in a fight, but you doubt your roommate would ever let you hear the end of it. And also cut you off of sex.  
  
You think you can handle female Hitler’s words for a little while longer.  
  
“Becs, what’s wrong?!”  
  
Suddenly Chloe’s hands are on your face and rubbing your cheeks as if you’ve been crying or something. She probably wasn’t even aware her best friend was over here a few seconds ago and basically telling you you’re out if you mess up this Saturday.  
  
You don’t really care if she throws you out, though.  
  
She can do whatever she wants.  
  
Chloe’s body is pressed against yours and she whispers to you, “I didn’t know you’d get upset about it, we can go now if you want.”  
  
You tell her you’re fine and you spend the night dancing with her and you’re actually enjoying yourself. The glances Aubrey throws your way every few minutes don’t go unnoticed, but you ignore her. By the time the party is over, you’re way too tired to think about having sex and Chloe’s way too drunk to give clear consent. You basically have to drag her intoxicated ass across campus since she will fall down on her own. You don’t have to test that theory to know you’re right.  
  
When you finally make it to your room, opening the door is a whole other task, especially since Chloe’s licking and biting down your earlobe and jaw with her full weight resting on you.  
  
_Goddamn it, why do doors have locks?!_  
  
When the door flings open, the both of you stumble inside and you’re just about able to kick your foot back to shut it after you. Then Chloe kisses you and you are no longer able to bare your own legs to steady, let alone your roommate’s. You fall on your bed with the redhead on top of you and after a few minutes of making out, her lips start to move slower and slower against yours. You open your eyes to see she’s about to fall asleep and you try, inevitably, to get her to move to the other side of the room and into her own bed. In a matter of milliseconds, she’s able to go from kissing you to fully passed out and drooling on your neck. You consider sleeping in her bed instead, but your arm is caught under her now unconscious body and you doubt you have the strength to get it back.  
  
After a few more drastic options, like cutting off your arm with that blunt knife you think you can reach on the counter, _(what?! James Franco did it, too!)_ you feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.  
  
_Fuck it._  
  
You’ll just sleep next to her. Just this once. What’s the harm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm completely satisfied with this chapter, but I am happy with brotp Beca/Jesse ! Let me know what you liked or wanna see more of? See you guys next week ;) Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave, you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.” - Caitlyn Siehl
> 
> /

The first time you wake up that night, you startle at the sight of someone’s arms wrapped around your torso. They’re not even holding you tight, yet you feel like you’re suffocating.  You’re quickly able to free yourself from the limbs hanging over you which is when you’re able to see the person they belong to.  
  
You relax and lie against the wall. You fall asleep again fast.  
  
The second time you wake up is because of the lack of air, and, again, your body startles. There’s someone lying on your chest, you knew that even before your eyes opened, but now that you can see ginger hair taking up your eyesight, you’re able to breathe again.  
  
You sigh and close your eyes. You fall asleep again fast.  
  
The third time, there’s no legs draping over your thighs or heads on your chest, but something has yet again taken the air from your lungs. You turn to see the person lying completely still and a few inches away from you. Your eyes follow her curves down to where you see your hands are enlaced and it all makes sense then.  
  
You’re too tired to get your hand from out her grip.  
  
(Sure, Beca. You tell yourself that.)  
  
You fall asleep again fast.  
  
The final time you get to open your eyes that night isn’t anything like the previous times. There’s no lack of air or lingering of your eyelids as if they were glued together; no. This time your eyes fly open and the bed’s still creaking from Chloe’s body movements.  
  
“What the fuck, man.” You slowly spit out as you rub your hand over the place just above your eye that she just hit with her elbow. The girl seems to be a light sleeper, because she lets out a hum and turns back to face you. You watch how she curls up against your side and slowly opens her eyes. You could have guessed what happens after that. Her pupils dilate when she meets yours and her lips work on instinct, you reckon, as you watch the corners lift and curl. She then wraps an arm around you and her face disappears into the creek of your neck as you feel her placing kisses there.  
  
“Ho, ho, ho, hold up there, woman.” You say confident and her head snaps back up so quickly, you gulp at the realization of how close her face is to yours. You remove her arm from your stomach, both to make sure she knows just because you let her sleep in your bed, doesn’t mean you’re up for cuddling now, and also to watch her eyes shrink in confusion, which regains you your voice. “Time for you to get into your own bed now.”  
  
“Why?” She pouts and you have to hold back a smile at how cute she looks. Within the blink of an eye, she’s on top of you, straddling your thighs as she places her lips on your collarbone. It takes you a while before you realize why you were mad at her in the first place.  
  
“Hey, no, wait.” It comes out as a stumble, which you will beat yourself over for later. “You don’t get to do this.”  
  
She rests her forehead against yours and her breath on your lips makes your skin gain goosebumps. “Why not?” Her voice is low now and you catch her staring at your lips.  
  
“Because you just hit me in the face, dude! You slammed your elbow into my eye in your sleep.”  
  
She stares at you, probably wondering whether or not you’re lying, and then falls on top of you and bursts out in laughter.  
  
_Great._  
  
“Yeah, my pain is hilarious.” You state dryly.  
  
She recovers quickly and places her head back against yours, but you can still see the joy within her eyes and the way she’s biting her lip to prevent herself from smiling. “Did I really do that?”  
  
You nod and she chuckles before apologizing and her fingers softly move over your face to run themselves through your hair. They leave a path of smoke and fire on your skin and you have no time to put it out, because her lips follow soon. She kisses the place above your eye first, as if she knows that’s the place she hurt. Or maybe it has already turned into a black eye, since she did hit you kind of hard.  
  
_Whatever. Now you have an excuse to wear sunglasses inside.  
_  
Her lips move from your forehead to your cheeks and your eagerness probably shows when she finally meets your lips, because she giggles and you hate it, so you bite her lip to shut her up.  
  
You’re only a few minutes into your make out session when you hear your phone buzz. You ignore it, obviously. You hate people who drop everything just to check on their phones. You see it all the time, couples dancing to your music in the club when one person reaches for their pocket faster than light and they practically run out of the club. You see it in stores, and bars, and even Luke does it. You’ll be halfway through a conversation with him when you hear My Chemical Romance’s ‘Na Na Na’ blast out his pants. You guess that’s different, since that’s work.  
  
_Work  
  
Shit_  
  
You would’ve said it out loud if Chloe’s tongue wasn’t roaming your mouth, which you have to do something about immediately or you won’t ever make it to work, so you pull back and she sits back on your lap. You miss her warmth as soon as she’s gone, the open space between your two bodies makes your skin run cold and your back shiver.  
  
_Wait, what?  
  
Ugh, Mitchell, get yourself together for fuck’s sake._  
  
“Everything okay?” She asks as you blindly search for your phone on the counter behind you.  
  
“I have to get to work.” You speak as you try to get her to move off of you. You need your phone, but you are not able to twist your arm in a way if she continues to prevent your lower body from moving. You groan a little when she doesn’t get the hint and stays put on your thighs. “Beale, could you move for God’s sake, I need my phone.”  
  
“Beca, you cancelled work, remember?”  
  
“I cancelled the club. I still have to get to the record store.”  
  
She grabs your wrists and you really don’t wanna snap at her like you usually do, but you need her to get off of you, so you can get your ass to work. It’s like she can tell you’re about to get pissed, because she releases the tension she had on you and instead slips her fingers between yours.  
  
“Becs, I really don’t think you have to go.”  
  
What the fuck is she talking about, of course you have to get to work. Luke can’t control both the radio and the store. The new delivery of rock CDs came in yesterday, so you need to get that stocked. And you haven’t even finished stocking the previous shipment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, okay? Whatever you started here-“ Your hands roam the air between the both of you in opposite of each other to make sure she understands. “-isn’t more important than work. I have responsibilities, Luke is waiting for me, I have to-“  
  
You hadn’t realize you were rambling and trying to get up with the ginger on top of you, but Chloe must have, because she pushes you back into the mattress hard. Her hands stay on your chest as she keeps you in place. You wonder where that strength came out of, because her eyes are still bright and her smile is present as always.  
  
“Beca. It’s not even six o’clock yet.”  
  
_Oh.  
  
Ooh.._  
  
Chloe scooches closer until her knees aren’t besides your hips anymore, but next to your chest. Your breath gets caught in your throat when she leans in even more and her boobs brush against your face. Then she moves back and sits down on your stomach, a sneaky smirk on her face that lets you know she put her body that close to you on purpose, one hand up and between you two, holding what must be your phone.  
  
You have to blink a few times to erase the sight of your roommate’s chest from your eyes, and then you’re able to tell it is indeed your phone she’s holding up and it shows she was right about the time. You roll your eyes and Chloe laughs at you.  
  
_What a bitch._  
  
“How are you so cheerful anyway? Aren’t you supposed to be hungover?”  
  
“Nope.” That’s all she says before connecting your lips again.  
  
_Looks like you do have time for sex._

* * *

 

* * *

  
Somehow, you’ve managed to still make Beca late for work, which wasn’t your intention, but you can’t really say you feel bad about it. You got caught up in her. In her lips, in her touch, in the way she would pull you back every time you had to take a breath. Then you got lost in how she tasted, how you tasted on her lips, how she cursed out your name, how her body panted after getting her over the edge.  
  
You think having sex with Beca is one of your favorite activities of all time.  
  
“What are you doing?” You ask as you collect your underwear from where it was thrown to the ground earlier. You quickly hop back into them and go into the kitchen to make some tea. Beca’s cursing and groaning in the small closet, probably looking for something. You can’t make out what, since she’s mostly talking in swear words again.  
  
You’re pouring yourself and your new friend a cup of Earl Grey when you hear something buzzing on the counter. You know it’s not yours, because you have the default ringtone still set on your phone. “Oh, Becs, your phone is going off.” You say as you pick up the thing to hand it to her. You expect to see something work related as the caller, but you’re surprised to find it says ‘Dad’.  
  
“Yeah, it’s probably Luke asking why I’m not in the store yet.” Beca sighs.  
  
You’re not sure you should say anything. You don’t want Beca to think you were snooping again. Which you weren’t. You just wanted to give her to phone, so she could answer it on time. Your eyes just happened to land on the screen, since the item was in your hand and all. You weren’t invading her privacy.  
  
Were you?  
  
“No, it’s-, it’s your dad.”  
  
Beca practically jumps out of the little space that’s filled with clothes and her eyes find your reached hand with her now silent phone on it. She’s only got one leg down her pants yet and any other time, you would be giggling at the sight. But you’re not sure what Beca is about to say and you should probably stay neutral while you await her reaction.  
  
You can feel the thing starting to vibrate again and you keep your eyes trained on Beca who’s watching the phone without making an attempt to get it from you. Then she looks up and her eyes go anywhere but to your face, which is when you realize you haven’t put on any clothes besides your underwear yet.  
  
“Uh, thanks. You can just-, put it there.” Beca stumbles as she heads back into the closet.  
  
You do as she asked as you wonder whether or not you did something wrong here. Beca didn’t seem mad at you. She didn’t yell or throw a fit. She didn’t even curse, which is a rarity.  
  
You take your hot cup of tea in your hands as you think to yourself  you may have handled this alright.  
  
Soon Beca appears and fully clothed this time, headphones around her neck and her black leather jacket already on. She’s struggling to get her shoes on as she hops around the room in an attempt to get ready faster, when she could just sit down for a second and probably be done quicker.  
  
You don’t suggest her this idea.  
  
“I’m sorry I made you late.” You grin as you hand her the tea you made and you think she can see you’re not sorry at all.  
  
“Why do I not believe that?” She chuckles and denies your beverage.  
  
“Beca, you have to drink something.” You say as you finish hers as well.  
  
“Oh, I will.” She says as she dives into the fridge and reappears with four Red Bull’s pressed against her chest. “This is how I survive my morning.” She winks and heads out the door before you’re able to wish her a good day.  
  
You text Aubrey if she’s up for a run and you meet her fifteen minutes later outside of the chemistry lab. You have figured out years ago that that’s the place just in between your two dorms. You had planned to bring up Beca and see if she could maybe tone it down a bit, but Aubrey has just received her grade for the English paper and she is furious with _only_ getting a B minus.  
  
She’s still rambling when you pass the record store where Beca works. You’ve run by that place a million times, but now is the first time you take a look inside. It doesn’t look as dusty and gross as the picture you had created of it in your mind. It actually looks rather modern and hip. You hear a man’s voice blasting through the speakers that are on either side of the small building and you reckon that voice must belong to Beca’s boss. Luke, she called him. You turn the corner with your eyes still glued to the place when you spot your roommate inside. And Jesse. You ignore the weird knot your stomach turns itself into and instead focus on Beca. She looks bored and uninterested as usual, which is nothing compared to the last time she was talking to the young boy. She was all smiles and talks then. Now, she looks like she wants to _glare him to death_.  
  
You know that, because she’s looked at you like that plenty of times before.  
  
The moment you’ve passed the store completely and turn your eyes back in front of you, you collapse into a group of students. You smile bright and big until everyone of the girls and boys do the same and then you’re back next to Aubrey.  
  
“Chloe, where is your head at?!” She yells.  
  
“Nowhere, I was just listening to you.” You lie. You think she can tell, because she sighs in that annoying way.  
  
“We have to talk about Beca.” Aubrey states without slowing down her pace.  
  
You indeed need to have a talk about her, but you wonder why Aubrey thinks so as well. You spent the entire way towards the Starbucks thinking of possible things your best friend might want to say to you about your new friend. You don’t come up with any rational ideas.  
  
“So, what’s up?” You ask Aubrey as nonchalantly as possible while placing two latte’s on the table in front of her and taking a seat beside her.  
  
“The girl is trouble, Chloe. I saw it last night. You were wasted, so I know you don’t remember anything, but she needs to go.”  
  
That’s not true. You remember everything that happened very clearly. Well, maybe not **_clearly_** , but you remember. You remember drinking and dancing with the girls, you remember Stacie jumping on everyone’s back, you remember Fat Amy asking you if you had any thoughts on Black Beauty. You didn’t know who she meant, so you grabbed her face and smooshed her cheek.  
  
And then you remember your new friend. You remember kissing Beca, flirting with Beca, dancing with Beca. Technically, you were dancing and she was laughing at you while trying to keep you from falling with her hands continuously on you. But you file it under dancing nonetheless.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bree.”  
  
“Well, obviously.” She says offensive. “Chlo, she was all over you!”  
  
You start laughing without realizing it, but you can’t help it. The idea of your cold roommate being _all_ over you is hilarious. She was just trying to get some later, which she didn’t, but that’s beside the point. “Are you serious?” You’re able to breathe out in between laughter.  
  
“Dixie Chicks serious.” Aubrey crosses her arms and glares at you and, okay, she is indeed serious.  
  
“Aubs, ten minutes ago you were convinced she wanted to hook up with that Treble boy.” You don’t know why you don’t just call him by his name. Somehow, this is easier.  
  
“That was before I saw the way she looked at you.”  
  
Your heart skips a beat when you hear Aubrey’s words.  
  
“I’m just telling you to be careful. Maybe she’s not a murderer, but she can still be a creep who takes advantage of drunk girls.”  
  
“She’s not, Bree. I promise.”  
  
You think about telling your best friend about the deal you made with Beca, but you’re not sure it would make any sense if you said certain words out loud. You’ve never kept anything from Aubrey, but after the event that took place between the two of you last school year, you don’t feel guilty about having your secrets. You don’t owe it to her to tell her everything that goes on in your private life.  
  
“While we’re on the topic,-“ You say as you empty your cup. “-I think maybe you can be a little less mean to her, Bree.”  
  
“I am not mean to her!” Aubrey shoots back and you just hold her gaze as a response. You know she doesn’t need an explanation. “Fine.” She folds. “I will try. I can’t make any promises.”  
  
That’s good enough for you and you spend the next hour gossiping and chatting like you always would. You’re happy that even after going through some tough times last year, you will always have moments like these and you know you can go through anything together.  
  
Aubrey leaves to meet Stacie shortly after to go over some Literature. Stacie is great at science and anything abstract, but she’s asked for some help on the other courses. You’re glad Aubrey offered to help, because you don’t think you understand it well enough to teach. This whole thing makes you think of Beca. The girl still hasn’t gone to classes and you’re pretty sure she didn’t make any of her midterms.  
  
She doesn’t need straight A’s, but you know that Aubrey won’t accept any of the Bellas to stay with anything under C’s. You have to talk to Beca and make sure she goes to classes next week. She can probably arrange something with the professors, so she can still make the tests she’s missed, but it would take some work on Beca’s account. She’s going to have to figure out how she’ll manage two jobs, college, being a Bella and everything that comes with it.  
  
**_Chloe: interested in a hot drink w/ a hot girl? ;) ;) ;) (10:58)  
  
Tiny DJ: oh my God (11:10)  
  
Chloe: that doesn’t sound like a no, Becs ;) :D :D (11:11)  
  
Tiny DJ: fine but you’re paying. Be there in ten (11:19)_**  
  
That was easier than expected. You order an Iced Coffee for yourself and for Beca a Chocolate Dalmatian, since she seemed obsessed with chocolate chip cookies. You were introduced to that drink a while ago when you decided to try out everything off of the secret menu. You absolutely loved this drink and you think Beca will, too.  
  
“Hey!” You shout out when you see your new friend entering the coffee shop. You wave to get her attention, because her eyes skim everywhere but in your direction. The waving helps get her into the right way.  
  
“Beale.” She states semi-serious. “I figured you’d be sitting at the window, in between all the happy people in here. Being all social and shit.”  
  
You chuckle at her choice of words. “I was, actually. Aubrey and I went to get coffee earlier, but I moved into this dark corner when I heard you were coming.”  
  
She glares at you, trying to look angry, but you can see her fighting back a smile.  
  
“Here, I got you this.” You say as you push the drink over the table and into her hands. She looks horrified at the cup and you can tell she doesn’t trust what you’ve just given her. “It’s basically a hot white chocolate with chunks of chocolate chip cookies in them. I figured since you-“ Then she looks up at you, lips parted as if she’s about to yell at you, her pupils are wide and shiny, but her face looks neutral and you can’t tell what she’s about to do, so you continue. “-since you’re not a big fan of coffee and you seemed to like those chip cookies.”  
  
She exchanges looks between you and the drink in between her hands as time ticks by. You don’t think about filling the silence. You know she wants to comment on this, but she’s probably looking for words. You’ve learned by now she’s not great at communicating, so you give her time while you take zips of your own delicious drink.  
  
It’s kind of funny when you stop to think about it. How quickly you’ve been able to figure certain things out about this girl. You can admit to yourself now that you had your doubts along the way. Back when she was distant and sometimes plainly ignoring you. You had moments where you thought she’d never let you get close, but even then, you never thought about giving up trying. Beca is too interesting. You want to know everything about her. You want to understand how she works. What makes her tick and what makes her tack. What makes her snap at you and what makes her laugh.  
  
“You got me a drink with little bits of chocolate chip cookies in them?” She asks after a good three minutes.  
  
“Yeah. Just see if you like it, if you don’t, I will get you a Red Bull from around somewhere.” You reckon the campus store must sell it.  
  
“No, I-“ She shakes her head and meets your eyes and then she smiles. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything as honest and loyal as that. As if it’s a promise that whatever this moment is, it’s real and forever. You smile back at her, because what else can you do when there's such a pretty sight? Then she chuckles and takes the cup to her lips. You watch closely and see her eyes rolling back into her head and a moan coming from the back of her throat.  
  
_You can’t say you’ve never seen or heard that before._  
  
“Oh my God, this is so good!” She breathes out quickly before returning the cup to her mouth. “What is it again, hot white chocolate?”  
  
“Hmm-mm, with vanilla syrup, whipped cream and the chips sprinkled on top of it.” You explain. “Is it good?”  
  
“Good?!” Is all she yells back and you take that as a yes. ”How did you even get this?” She asks after finishing the hot beverage in record time.  
  
“Oh, it’s on the menu. The secret one.” You whisper and add a wink for effect. Beca blushes, so you figure it’s worked. “Was Luke alright with you leaving early?” You ask to get a conversation started.  
  
Beca leans back in the booth and her hands disappear into her hair as she sighs. “Yeah, shipment didn’t get in yesterday, so there wasn’t much to do.”  
  
You nod, but she doesn’t say anything else. “And you don’t have any classes today?” You hope you’re as subtle as you planned to be, but by the look on your friend’s face across from you, you think maybe you weren’t.  
  
“Okay, so that’s what this is about?” She laughs mockingly, but understanding. As if it clicks. Which it should, because this is the reason you called her over. Yet it’s hurting you to think Beca now assumes you just came here to lecture her. You also want to spend time with her, chat with her, laugh with her. “Alright, then. Spit it, Beale.”  
  
“Spit what?” You ask shyly, but your devilish smile probably gives you away.  
  
“Whatever you want to so desperately know. But it comes off of your questions!” She warns you, one finger pointed at you and her body now resting on the table in between the two of you. “What are we at, five now?”  
  
“No, I had ten!”  
  
“Yeah. Five questions ago.”  
  
“I’ve only used two, you cheater.”  
  
Beca stays quiet then. Her eyes staying locked on yours, refusing to give up first and you happily take the challenge. Watching her is easy. Possibly the easiest thing you’ve ever done. Her features are exceptional. The way her locks fall perfectly fine around her jawline. The way she’s leaning on the table with both arms, her left hand turned into a fist against the side of her forehead, the other hanging open and her pinky caught between her grinning teeth.  
  
You could say that she’s never looked more beautiful than right this moment, but you know that would be a lie. Every single time you’ve looked at her, she’s looked beautiful. Whether she’s been angry or at peace, she was beautiful to you. Different in each way, but special nonetheless.  
  
“Ugh, you’re the worst.” Beca gives in and lets her eyes rest on the space around her, hands falling next to her in the booth.  
  
You clap excitedly at your victory and she sends you a death glare in return.  
  
“Shut up. You play dirty, Beale.”  
  
“We can do that later.” You tease, and Beca’s shocked face is priceless. “Now spit it, Mitchell.” You reenact her famous words.  
  
Much to her dislike, Beca starts to talk about how she has no time nor interest in following any classes. You know she would never give up DJ’ing and she seems to like the job she has in the record store, so you’d never even ask her if she would consider giving that up. Besides, you’re pretty sure the only thing that makes Beca happy is music. You support anything that favors her in that way.  
  
Yet you’re aware something has to change. She can’t skip all classes and think she can get away with it. Soon, there will be consequences that you’d rather not think about.  
  
“Aren’t you scared they’re going to kick you out?”  
  
“Not really.” She shrugs. You see an emptiness in her eyes you haven’t yet seen. It scares you, but awakes you at the same time. All the times she’s told you she wasn’t going to stay here for long. All the times she walked away without a doubt in her movements. When she told you she wasn’t here to make friends.  
  
You’re not exactly sure you can connect those dots, but you understand each and every one of them better, you think.  
  
“You didn’t come here voluntarily, did you?”  
  
“Not really.” She looks anywhere but at you when she breathes out those heavy words. “My dad said he’d support me going to LA if I’d just try out college first.”  
  
You understand now. She’s doing this for her dad, to get his acceptance. You don’t really know why anyone wouldn’t be proud of Beca for doing all the things she does, but you have a feeling he’s not too happy with a DJ as a daughter. So you understand why she came here, now. Yet that’s the only thing she did in regards of his request. She’s  living on this campus, but she’s not trying out college like he asked. You wonder why she would go the lengths of trying to make him happy by enrolling school, but then doesn’t go to any classes and will most likely be kicked out of college in a few weeks.  
  
Why would she give the man hope only to disappoint him later on?  
  
Like a lot of things, you can’t quite understand Beca’s move in this little game between her and her dad. But you don’t have to understand.  
  
“You know, Beca, I’m in my senior year and I have no idea what I’m going to do after school.” Her eyes snap at your face for the first time since she started talking and she looks as though she’s witnessing water burn. “You have the rest of your life figured out. You know what you’re good at, you know what you want to become. That’s special, at least I think so.”  
  
She doesn’t speak, but her eyes shrink and her lips are pressed together as she nods. You think she gets what you’re trying to say.  
  
“And I don’t think you should be wasting your time in a place like this.”  
  
You can tell she wasn’t expecting that, but it’s the truth. Beca’s got everything figured out. She should start her life now, instead of drowning time on this campus until she’s kicked out and let go. You ignore your personal feelings about Beca leaving, because this is her life and that's more important than whatever is building up in your stomach.  
  
You’ve said what you wanted to say, so you keep quiet after that. You watch how your new friend is fidgeting with her jacket’s sleeve, you can hear her feet tapping underneath the table and you think for a second she might get up and run out of the coffee store.  
  
“I don’t really want to be a DJ for the rest of my life.” She says finally.  
  
“You don’t?” You kind of assumed she wanted to, since she’s so passionate about it.  
  
“No, I want to produce music.”  
  
You don’t really know the difference between a DJ and a music producer, except that one of them makes you think of Beca in a sweaty, stinky club, rocking her mixing skills and getting everyone dancing, while the other makes you think of Beca in a suit sitting behind a desk, judging songs that people have made.  
  
_Although Beca in a suit is not a bad thought._  
  
Beca explains to you the difference after you’ve asked her about it. Turns out, you were wrong. A music producer sounds a lot like a director of movies to you. She guides people in the whole process of making an album. She would still create music, just a little bit different than what she does now. More important than any of the words she’s saying, is the sparkle in her eyes you see every so often. You know that’s what makes or breaks this for you.  
  
“That sounds amazing, Becs.” You tell her honestly. You couldn’t think of anyone more fitting for that job. She shrugs, but the joy is still to behold in her eyes. “But, don’t you need a college degree for that?” The words have left your mouth without thinking them over, like truly anything you ever say, really.  
  
“I guess.” She looks as if she’s never thought about that.  
  
“Why don’t we go to the Dean of Students right now and see what’s possible for you?” You don’t want to push her, but if that’s her dream job, you want to help her get to it.  
  
“No.” She says after you’ve barely been able to finish your sentence. She’s up on her feet now and she looks as though she might be panicking. Hands go through her hair and her feet move a bit uncoordinated from side to side. “I can’t right now. I have to finish this mix I was working on.”  
  
“Okay.” You say with a smile, hoping it can calm her down. “Maybe next week, then.”  
  
“Yeah, next week.” She agrees, and with a “Thanks for the drink, by the way” she’s out.  
  
Overall, you think this has been a good step into your newly found friendship. You’ve talked for a bit. You got her to open up a little. Maybe even got her to reconsider leaving college. Yes, this morning has been good, you decide as you leave the coffee shop and head for the gym.

* * *

 

* * *

  
You feel your feet moving faster and faster once you get outside. This whole morning has been weird. First, your dad starts calling you again. The last time he did that was around three weeks ago, but you didn’t pick up then, either. For a split second you had thought about answering. You feared something might have happened to him, to Sheila, to anyone. But you know that’s just the fear that’s been rebooted inside of you years ago. So you told your ginger roommate to put it back and you hadn’t wasted another thought about your dad again until you were forced to bring it up during coffee.  
  
But before that, another weird thing happened. That stupid guy comes into your workplace again, basically telling you that you could be beautiful if you took the earrings out and smiled some more. What a shitty thing to say, by the way, but alright. That was nothing compared with his lame jokes and attempts to get you to smile. You will admit, it was kind of funny when he held those records in front of his face and he tried to match their looks. But more so than not, he was annoying you. He totally did not respect the fact that you had work to do since, _oh I don’t know_ , you work there. And yeah, Luke is chill, but you don’t want to be someone who only works when their boss is looking at them. You’re glad the shipment didn’t get in yesterday, because you would have never gotten that done with Jesse around.  
  
Then the annoying roommate decided to text you. _Seriously, why can’t anyone understand that you’re working?_ Anyway, you figured you’d rather be around her and listen to her stupid stories than wait until Jesse leaves the store, which could very well be never. So you accept her offer for coffee and leave the boy behind in the store. When you get there, you’re introduced to the most magnificent thing your tongue has ever tasted.  
  
A hot white chocolate with bits of chocolate chip cookies in them.  
  
I mean, even the description is enough to make your mouth watery. You don’t want to drink anything besides that drink ever again. But soon, the real reason why she asked you to come over pops out. The nosy snooper she is, she wants to know why you’re not going to class. Not that it’s any of her business, but you tell her eventually. You expected her to say that college is important and you should be grateful you have access to education and all that shit. But instead, she tells you that you shouldn’t be somewhere you don’t want to be.  
  
Never have you heard someone say that you should make your own path instead of follow the one that’s been lied out before you by other people.  
  
You wish it was as easy as that.  
  
Anyway, you’re forced to bring up your dad and you wonder if she thinks you’re a bad person for not answering his calls earlier. You hope she doesn’t.  
  
(Not that you care, though.)  
  
But the weirdest thing of the day is that you learn you need a degree to be a music producer. Which is kind of obvious, but you never thought about it. You figured you could be a DJ for a while, roam into that world of music makers and then end up as a producer eventually. Maybe you’re an idiot for thinking that.  
  
(You are.)  
  
Then Chloe asked you to go see the Dean to discuss possibilities and you couldn’t get out of there quick enough. For months now, you’ve set your mind on leaving for LA at the end of this year. There was a plan. First, you go to whatever crap school your dad tells you to go. That kind of went wrong already, since the first school he recommended you had to send you away, because you got caught fighting one time and you spent a night in jail.  
  
_It was just one night, what a bunch of lunatics._  
  
Your dad got mad at you, of course he did, but eventually calmed down and enrolled you in this Barden place.  
  
Step two was to not go to any classes. Nailed that, of course. And you would work as much as you could as a DJ, to gain experience and maybe even a name, so things would come easier to you in LA.  
  
But now the whole plan is fucked up. Yes, you want to be a music producer, but is it worth changing the plan? What would be the new plan, then?  
  
Step one: go to all the classes, get good grades, last four years in this shithole doing just that.  
  
That sounds like an awful plan. Your original plan is much easier. You’re good at your original steps. You’re probably not good at this new plan. What if you go to the classes and you actually try, but you fail your courses anyway? What if you get your hopes up for this new plan and it all crashes down? Then what? You can’t go back to your original plan, then. That would be embarrassing.  
  
No, better just to stick with the things you know you’re good at.

* * *

  
You start your Fast Car mix as soon as you’re in your dorm. You record yourself singing the version of it that you had in mind and you were right. It’s finally starting to sound like what you need it to be. By the time your roommate makes it back to your room, you’ve just finished singing it and started to edit the song. You’ve still got the original Tracy Chapman version playing on your laptop and you’re lucky you hadn’t put your recording microphone away yet, because Chloe starts to sing along and she’s got this one sentence sung so beautifully that you can hear it in the version you’ve made of the song in your head. You think about editing that in, just to see how it sounds.  
  
She leaves the room shortly after and it takes you another half an hour to finish up the mix. By the time you’re convinced it’s perfect like this, you disconnect your headphones and let the mix play as loud as you can.  
  
You need to hear it burst to the walls and back like it does in the club.  
  
There’s a few things that you need to adjust, but it’s close to perfect. And you really like the one sentence you have in there that Chloe sings. Although it’s not really a sentence, more like two simple words that she stretches out, but still. You think it’s a little twist that suits the song well.  
  
You save the edit and send Kevin the mix. You know he’ll be just as excited as you are about it. And you have enough other mixes you previously made to spin at Flashin’. You put your laptop down and crawl under the blankets as you close your eyes quite satisfied with yourself.  
  
You haven’t even been able to fall asleep completely when you hear the door open and the humming of what can be no other than your roommate. She’s whispering your name and you can feel your bed lower at what can only be her weight added to it. You’re too tired to open your eyes, so you groan and hope she gets the message and backs off.  
  
“Did you finish your mix?” She asks and you think it’s kind of nice she's interested.  
  
“Yeah, ‘ did.” You mumble.  
  
You roll around a bit, because you’re no longer lying comfortable. You twitch and turn until you feel soft lips on your forehead. You open your eyes to see the girl hanging over you, a genuine smile and her eyes studying your face. You think she’s about to say something, so you pull her close and kiss her lips.  
  
It was just supposed to be a quick one, just to prevent her from speaking, but the feeling of her lips on yours makes you want more, so you keep kissing her. She leans into it and eventually rests her body on yours.  
  
She chuckles against your lips and you know why. You’ve basically been lying there with one arm still against your side and the other around her neck. It always takes you a second too long to realize what’s happening. You haven’t gotten used to this. Where you officially move into that part of your deal and you’re allowed to touch her. To actually put your hands on her wherever you want.  
  
You choose her hips first. It’s like the obvious choice since she’s on top of you. Then you move them over her back. It’s soft and muscled at the same time, which is strange to you. You keep them there for a while, moving your nails from her shoulder blades to the dip in her back, until she takes off her top and she holds your hands and guides them onto her chest.  
  
You probably took a little too long. But, to be honest, you kind of forget time when she’s got her tongue down your throat.  
  
You flip her over, so you’re able to properly take off your own clothes and you decide there has been enough of this soft kisses, boob massages, giggles and smiles stuff. This time when you drag your nails over her skin, it leaves scratch marks at her abdomen and you can’t say it looks bad on her. You make marks until you reach her waistband. You kind of forget she was still wearing pants, so you make quick work of them and she’s in just her underwear underneath you now.  
  
She has a nice body. Hell, she has a great body, you can admit that. But you snap yourself out of that admiring state, because you know it will end up in you drooling over her like you basically did this morning when she was trying to give you your ringing phone.  
  
Instead of doing that, you connect your mouth to her neck and work your way down over her chest and stomach. You make sure to follow the scratch marks and add some bite marks to her while you’re at it.  
  
When you’ve reached her thighs, you look up to witness the painting you made on her body. The sight makes you ridiculously proud, and you find her face at the head of the bed. She’s looking at you with desperation in her eyes and you think for a second about making her beg, just because you can.  
  
But then you realize you can’t.  
  
It’s in that moment you find clarity about the deal you made days ago.  
  
It’s about getting each other off. Which, yes, you knew already. But that’s all it’s about. The kisses and hand holding have to stop, because the deal is this. Orgasms. That’s all. Relieving stress for each other, because you live in the same space and your beds are less than three foot apart. Sex. This is just about sex.  
  
Your mouth finds out how wet she is and her back arches off the bed instantly. It’s not long until she’s panting out the nickname she created for you and you let her ride out her bliss on your fingers. She grabs your face with two hands and she’s kissing you before you know it. You kiss her back until she needs to fill her lungs with air, which is your cue to get up and leave the bed.  
  
You grab a Red Bull and she asks you if you’re alright. You answer truthfully, because you are fine. Nothing’s wrong or bothering you. On the contrary, actually, because you’ve finally been able to figure out what this deal you so quickly made in that shower stall is truly about. You finally have some guide rules for yourself. You know what can and can’t happen. You’re convinced sharing beds is on the 'can’t' side, as of now.  
  
“Come here.” She speaks slowly, and you know what that means, but you’re not really in the mood. You don’t feel like you need her right now, not like she needed you when you found her lust filled eyes begging you to touch her. You are okay, more tired than horny. And you now feel like you have some rules for yourself, which is why you deny her offer. You don’t need her, so you tell her. You can tell by the way her jaw hangs open and she nods slowly that she’s offended to say the least, but she moves away from your bed and that’s all you wanted.  
  
She tells you practice starts in four hours before the door closes behind her and you fall asleep alone, knowing you did the right thing. And when you do need her, she’ll be there for you like you were there for her. Because that’s what the deal is. No more getting coffee, no more talks about the future, because you are not friends and you won’t ever be friends. You’re roommates and it happens to be convenient for the two of you to have sex. That’s it.  
  
You understand now.  
  
The faster Beale understands as well, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beca, why are you such an idiot?!?!
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you liked and want to see more of! As you lot probably noticed, I won't make a chapter a week, but I promise I will try and keep it around ten days! Thanks for reading and all the lovely people leaving comments! Much appreciated!
> 
> Again, the song is the remix made by Jonas Blue.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "A girl once told me to be careful when trying to fix a broken person for you may cut yourself on their shattered pieces." -Unknown
> 
> /

“No, I’m fine, I don’t-, need you right now.”  
  
The words echo around in your head long after you have left the room. You had to get out of there, because you felt a lump in your throat building and your sight started to get glassy. You’d be damned if you’d let Beca see you cry.  
  
It’s stupid, you don’t even know why it has made you cry. You know Beca’s not good with words and she probably didn’t mean it the way it sounded, yet it felt like a personal attack and you have no idea what you did wrong.  
  
(Usually you have at the very least a clue of what makes Beca snap.)  
  
You just don’t understand how she can be kissing you one second, and the next she’s telling you she doesn’t need you. You guess you should have known this deal was doomed to come to an end. You just didn’t think it would last this short.  
  
You wonder what’s going to happen now. If Beca’s going back to ignoring you for the rest of the time she’ll be here. You think it’s safe to assume she’s not going to be at practice later today and you should probably inform Aubrey that you’re in need of a new Bella.  
  
You can’t believe you lost this girl only a few days after getting her. Not that you got her. Or had her. So, technically, you couldn’t have lost her. But it feels like you did. All the little things you got to know about her, all the different faces you had figured out, it doesn’t matter anymore.  
  
God, you’ve been so stupid. You should have known this was bound to happen. Beca’s been pushing you away since day one, but you just had to put yourself out there and try to be her friend.  
  
You find yourself knocking on someone’s door and you’re not sure how you got here, but you know where you are. Aubrey opens the door and drags you inside with concern in her eyes. You reckon you must still be crying, but it’s not until she places you on her bed that you let go completely and tears stream faster down your cheek now.  
  
She continuously asks you what’s wrong, louder and louder each time. You’re forced to get yourself together and after a few deep breaths, the words roll off of your tongue. You don’t have time to think whether it’s a good idea to tell your best friend all of this, because with every second that passes by, six other words have  left your mouth and there is no stopping you, now.  
  
You tell her about the deal. How you heard her sing and knew she could help you get to the Nationals. How she was open at times, and closed at others. How you figured her out, little by little. How she let you. You tell Aubrey about the two times you got coffee with her. The time you slow danced with her to punk rock music. Things like when she smiled at you and you couldn’t feel your knees anymore.  
  
You don’t tell her the personal stuff, like that her dad forced her into college and she’s planning to leave soon. Or how you found her in the middle of a panic attack that one day. How her eyes get dark and her jaw clenches in that second before she starts to yell at you.  
  
Somehow, those things seem more private than the times you’ve had sex.  
  
Aubrey makes the mistake in letting you talk, because now you’re rambling about how you need to find another girl to fill the spot Beca will leave behind, how you’ve got a show tomorrow and you’ll be one woman short. You’re up on your feet, wiping the tears from your face as you pace the room. “We have to start going around campus right now, maybe we’ll be lucky and find someone who can sing and who wants to join us tomorrow.”  
  
“Chloe,-“  
  
You feel your best friend’s hands on your arms and the look on her face makes your eyes sting again. She’s feeling sorry for you, you can tell.  
  
“-you’re not, in love with this girl, are you?”  
  
“What? No, of course not!” You answer fast and without a doubt. How can she even think that? “I just want to figure her out and for us to be friends!” There’s absolutely zero feelings involved in whatever you have with Beca. Most times, you can’t even stand her. How she uses more swear words than normal ones in a sentence. How she’s rude and inconsiderate. How she seems to have no problems with showing negative emotions, yet can’t bring herself to simply be nice to people for more than three seconds.  
  
But you think she’s interesting. That’s why you’re upset right now. Not that she’s leaving you, but that she’s taking her secrets with her before you had a chance to hear about them.  
  
(That’s what you tell yourself, at least.)  
  
“Good.” Aubrey states as her regular sharpness reappears onto her face. “We all know she was going to leave, one way or another. This is fine. We’ll have to do the show tomorrow with what we have, after that we will have auditions again and see who we can use.”  
  
You know your best friend is right, but something inside your chest tightens. As if you came to her for reassurance. As if you thought she’d tell you Beca wouldn’t leave. As if she would make sure she wouldn’t.  
  
That’s your own fault for thinking that. You obviously went to the wrong person if that was what you wanted. Aubrey is not the person who holds your hand and tells you everything will be okay. She’s there to tell you the truth.  
  
Maybe that’s what you secretly needed to hear, and you knew it. That’s why you went to her.  
  
So you nod and get yourself together. You stay in Aubrey’s room for the next hour until she tells you she’s made plans with some of the girls. She asks you to join, but you decline her offer. You make sure she knows you’re fine and you quickly head out. With no idea where you’re going, you cross campus and find yourself in the Art section of college. You think about going into the library, but you know you won’t be able to handle the silence in there. You’ll be alone with your thoughts and you don’t think there’s anything good in them.  
  
You go into the building nonetheless. The autumn wind is bringing shivers to your body and at least it’ll be a bit warmer when you’re inside. Hurried people pass you by once you make it inside. Most of them are holding something. Big, flat, plastic bags. You reckon it might be portfolio’s and unknowingly, you follow the crowd to where they enter a room.  
  
You spot wooden easels and students holding all different sized paintbrushes with the most beautiful colors on them. Some are mixed so well, you can honestly say you’ve never seen it anywhere in this world. Every canvas contains something completely different from the other. You see portraits and landscapes. Animals from up close and abstract art.  
  
You’re intrigued by every single one of them. It’s like they all hold their own story. It’s beautiful how there’s no flaw to find in any line or curve. Even if they’re not straight where they have to be or if it’s a slipped turn, it doesn’t matter. There’s no guidelines and everything is good.  
  
“The assignment was to make something you’re good at.” A man from behind you speaks. “Often, students get challenged to work on their weak spots, but I don’t believe in that. You should better the things you’re good at. I believe artists are good at whatever they are brave enough to put on paper or canvas in this class. It sounds easy, but having the courage to create and  work out an idea and then show it to the world with pride.. That’s something wonderful.”  
  
You nod with a smile, because you understand what he means. He’s not looking at you, though. All the while, he’s been staring at the students in his class, arms folded over each other and pressed to his chest. He must be close to six feet, because your eyes barely meet his shoulders. He’s got glasses on and short, blonde hair with a proud smile as he talks about his students. You guess him to be in his late forties.  
  
“I don’t know much about this side of art, but it sure looks wonderful.”  
  
He looks at you then. Slowly, scanning your face as if he’s looking for something. Then, his smile grows wider and he nods as if he’s solved some sort of puzzle. “That’s right, you’re Chloe, right? One of the two Barden Bella seniors.”  
  
You smile proudly, unaware that people that aren’t students know who you are. “Chloe Beale.” You say as you reach out to shake his hand. He accepts and tells you his name is Paul. “I assume being an art professor wasn’t your own choice, then.” You smile at his confusion. “Parents big Gauguin fans?”  
  
He laughs. “I thought you said you didn’t know about this side of art.” You shrug confidently. You paid attention during art history and you guess some things just stuck. “But, no. I was named after Paul Klee.”  
  
You don’t recognize that name, but you keep your eyes focused on the man, interested in what else he has to say.  
  
“So, Chloe,-“ His eyes move back to where his class is working. “-tell me. You know performing arts; singing, music and dance. Are you interested in learning more about the visual side of art? Painting, drawing, sculpture, photography.”  
  
Before realizing it, you’ve said yes to his question. You think about whether or not you should do this. You’re in your last year and you shouldn’t take up extra classes when you barely pass the ones you have, now. But you follow Paul into the room and maybe you’re following something greater, as well.  
  
The class is the most interesting one you’ve ever experienced. Everyone is nice and helpful, which is already a big reason you’re so enthusiastic. People are different; some have cool hair colors, like green or blue, and there’s music playing that you think might be French. They remind you of your group of Bellas. Everyone is different, and everyone is accepted. You feel at home in this room, which is weird, because you don’t really know anyone and you don’t really fit in.  
  
(Yet, you do.)  
  
Paul has given you the assignment to put anything you want on paper. It could be a drawing, or a painting, even a poem, although he’s stated he’d rather see something visual. You can’t write poems, anyway, so that’s fine.  
  
You walk through the room and chat a little with everyone, trying to get inspired in one of their works or hear something that will give you a great idea. You meet a girl named Hannah and you’re reminded of a girl with a matching name in the town you grew up in.  
  
You find an empty place and don’t think twice as you pick up the paintbrush and start to put your hands to work.

* * *

  
“You choose to use paint and canvas. Interesting.” Paul says from behind you. You recognize his voice, so you don’t waste time turning around and keep your eyes on the canvas, working on some of the details in your painting. “That shows boldness. Means you’re not scared to make mistakes.”  
  
The class is starting to empty out as Paul makes an attempt to walk away from you. “Wait! What do you think of it?” You ask as you reassess your work. You’re not sure you could make it any better, apart from a few adjustments in color here and there.  
  
“I just told you what I think, Chloe.”  
  
He’s off to another girl in class after that, and you go over his words as you gather your things and clean your workplace. He didn’t say anything in regards of your work, but maybe that doesn’t matter in his eyes. In his class. You leave your canvas on the wooden easel to show Paul you will be coming back.  
  
You exit the room and look back to see the girl who gave you inspiration is still inside. You wait a few minutes and then Hannah steps through the door.  
  
“Hi! Chloe, right? Waiting on someone?”  
  
“Yes, you, actually! I wanted to say thanks.”  
  
The small girl with red locks in her auburn hair smiles widely as she throws her backpack over one shoulder. “You’re welcome. What did I do, exactly?”  
  
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “You gave me inspiration! I knew a girl with a name like yours once. It reminded me of this place nearby the house I grew up in, so I tried to paint that.” The girl sets a pace and you follow her out the building.  
  
“Ah, I see. There wouldn’t be enough time in the world for me to thank everyone who’s ever given me inspiration. Also, it would be pretty hard expressing gratitude to artists who’ve been dead for more than three hundred years. Or, you know, a set of mugs in a bar I’ve past once.”  
  
“You were inspired by a couple of mugs?!”  
  
“There’s stimulation everywhere, newbie. You just have to look for it.”  
  
Hannah seems to be going the same way you have to go to get to the auditorium where practice is held today, so you chat with her about how she got into art and what’s her favorite thing to paint until your ways part and you tell her you’ll see her next class.  
  
You skip into the gym where Aubrey’s already setting up everything for practice and Fat Amy is lounging around on the bleachers. Aubrey takes one look at you before walking over and putting a hand on your forehead.  
  
“You don’t seem to have a fever, so what’s causing all this-“ Her hands roam the air in front of your body, searching for the right words. “-odd behavior!”  
  
“Odd?” You ask faking confusion. You know what your best friend means. Only a few hours ago, you were soaking her shirt in tears. Now, you’re wearing a bright smile and there’s no more traces of the hurt Beca’s words caused you.  
  
“Yes, odd! What happened? Did you see Beca?”  
  
You shake your head quickly. You didn’t see Beca. You’ve accepted by now that she’s moving on and you’re going to have to find a new Bella. You start to wonder if maybe this was supposed to happen. Meeting Beca, having her break you down, only to find peace in that art classroom. You don’t want to jump to things, but you really like the way it felt to create something with your own mind and hands. Maybe this day was destined to go this way. Maybe you’ve found something greater than a college friend.  
  
Maybe you’ve found yourself.  
  
Isn’t that more important than figuring out some girl?  
  
(Yet Beca’s not _some_ girl. And you wish you could have both, but you can’t.)  
  
You help your best friend setting up the things you need for your final practice as the rest of the girls come wandering in. You don’t tell Aubrey about your art experiences just yet. You need to figure out for yourself if this is what you want without involving other people’s opinions. You have a tendency of getting overly excited about things and then getting tired of them after a few weeks.  
  
You don’t want to get your hopes up and start planning your future if you’ll be done with this in a matter of days.  
  
You decide to keep it for yourself for now and see if you’re still as eager in a few weeks.  
  
The two of you have things ready in a matter of minutes and Aubrey rounds the girls up while you set the playlist. You don’t even hear the sound of a door falling shut, but you hear the deafening silence that falls over your group. You turn to them first and see all eyes on the doorway. You see Beca standing there, shocked at the effect her entering has had and flustered at being the center of attention.  
  
You know Aubrey said she was meeting some of the girls. She must have told them in joy about Beca not coming anymore, because you don’t think your group has ever been quiet for more than three seconds. You break the silence by filling the room with music and everyone gets in place at your subtle request.  
  
Everyone except Aubrey.  
  
“Bree, come on.” You try, but you can tell by the veins in your best friend’s forehead, she’s not just going to let this go.  
  
“Beca.” Aubrey states as she crosses the room. You follow her, but stop halfway through. The girls behind you pause the music and you see them shrugging at your asking eyes.  
  
“Coach.” Beca answers after a scrape of her throat.  
  
“What exactly are you doing here?”  
  
“Uhm-,” Beca stumbles and her eyes dart to you for help. You don’t know if you can give her that. She’s made her decision. She doesn’t need you. “-I, today is-, It’s practice, right?”  
  
“Bellas’ practice, Beca.”  
  
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. Is-, is something wrong?”  
  
“Your presence is no longer needed here.”  
  
Her eyes shrink in size and you watch her gulp after a few stumbles. “Why? What did I do?” Beca’s voice doesn’t break, but something inside you does. The simple fact that she assumes she did something wrong here is reason enough for you to jump in between your two friends once again, preventing them from speaking.  
  
“Bree, why don’t you go and get started with the girls.”  
  
Aubrey sighs, but leaves without a fight, which surprises you. You turn to Beca, recognizing the people behind you are still silent and you’ve got a few more ears in this conversation than planned, you whisper, “You don’t have to come anymore if you don’t want to. We’ll find someone else.”  
  
You watch how your newest made friend’s face twists in frustration and it looks quite similar like her face just before she gets angry and starts yelling, yet you can spot the difference. For instance, she’s quicker with finding words. “If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here, Beale!” Then there are her hands, that aren’t held tight in a death grip within themselves. Her hands are open, fingers spread and pointed at you as if she wants to grab you and shake you around. “I don’t see where this is coming from, but if you want to find someone else, because I’m not doing good enough, you can just say so.” There’s not a single _‘fucking’_ in her sentences, which is rare and another thing that leads you to believe Beca’s not actually angry, just frustrated.  
  
She wasn’t particularly yelling, but she didn’t follow your lead in whispering either, so you’re not surprised the girls start getting involved in the matter.  
  
_“Not good enough? Beca is amazing!”  
  
“She doesn’t sing that bad, but she should work on her cardio. I almost passed her with my horizontal running.”  
  
“Who else would want to join us? We suck.”  
  
“We do **not** suck, Cynthia Rose, that’s five extra laps for you. Start running.”_  
  
The voices die out as you drag Beca into the dressing rooms and throw the door closed behind you as a **very** subtle hint. It’s good they are all on board with Beca staying, but she has thrown your deal off the table. Why would she stay?  
  
“Look, if this is about what I said earlier..”  
  
Beca’s face has changed again. Hands have lost their tension and are now shaking lightly as they roam through thick, auburn locks. Her eyes are on the floor and you can tell she’s looking for words. She’s no longer frustrated. She’s .. Nervous?  
  
“Becs, it’s alright.” You don’t know what you’re talking about. You just want her to calm down and look at you. Your hands fall on her shoulders as you close the gap between you and it’s worked. Eyes that seem dusty with widened pupils stare into your soul. You feel her shiver under your touch, but you don’t let her go.  
  
“It’s,- I didn’t,-“ You await patiently as Beca’s trying to form a sentence. “I was tired. And, the deal was sex, right? I didn’t,-“ She swallows away the recurrent words that hurt you so much hours ago. You’re thankful for that. “-mean anything by it, I was just tired.”  
  
You’re not sure you understand her better or if you’ve lost her completely right now. “So, you want to continue this? You don’t want out?”  
  
“I don’t want out.” She says faster than you can process and your eyes shoot open at her words. “I mean, what would you guys do without me? They were very clear back there.” Beca winks as she hints at the door where the group is behind.  
  
“Right. What would we do without you?” You repeat with a sarcastic smile, even though you know you wouldn’t be better off with her gone. “So, okay, the deal is still on. And you’ll tell me if you need me, then?”  
  
“Yeah. And you’ll tell me.”  
  
“I think you’ll know if I need you.” You say with a wink. You can inform Beca of it without words. That counts as well, right?  
  
“Alright, so, just sex. When we need it. That’s it.”  
  
“That’s it.” You state happily before kissing her lips and exiting the dressing rooms. The girls are still doing laps and they seem seconds away from passing out. You call them all over and you soon start the choreography for tomorrow. Beca seems to pick up rather quick, as expected. You have hope tomorrow will go just fine.  
  
Aubrey’s been throwing you looks ever since you and Beca returned to the class, but you ignore them. You’ll talk to her later.

* * *

 

* * *

  
You wake up an hour before the ginger told you practice starts today. You hit the showers first and go past the store next to grab some energy drinks and food that will hopefully poison your insides, since that’s the best kind of food.  
  
You change your blue jeans for grey sweats and make your way towards where Chloe and the other nerds are waiting for you. As soon as the door closes behind you, all eyes are on you and your fingers have to touch fabric to know you didn’t forget to put a shirt on or something.  
  
You wonder if there’s something between your teeth, or maybe a bird pooped on you right before entering the building. All very plausible options.  
  
Chloe clicks the music on and you almost make your way over, thinking they were just in the middle of something when you came in and intruded. That is until the devil on heels makes her way over to you, Aubrey, and your ginger roommate follows her quickly with words that try to get her away from you and back to the group.  
  
You did something.  
  
You don’t know what, but you did something to piss her off again.  
  
Normally, you’d be very proud of that, but something in the blonde’s eyes tells you this isn’t just a joke you pulled or a part of the game you subconsciously play. This is real. What did you do?  
  
“Coach.” You say, ignoring the way your throat tightens.  
  
You ponder shortly if she knows about you and Chloe, but you shake it off quickly. That would be ridiculous, she wouldn’t tell her. They seem close, yes. They are best friends, yes. But this is private and you don’t think she’d tell her something like that.  
  
But she’s mad at you for something.  
  
Practice is at this hour, right? You didn’t miss it, did you? Or did you sleep so long, you missed all of Friday and it’s actually Saturday and you weren’t there for the performance?  
  
(You know you didn’t miss it, but the anger you see in the captain’s eyes tells you it’s something horrible along that line.)  
  
You try to get the redhead to make eye contact with you, but her eyes stay trained on either the ground or the group of girls behind her. Perhaps anything but you.  
  
“Your presence is no longer needed here.”  
  
You don’t quite understand what that means, but Aubrey seems to truthfully believe her own words. The next thing you say isn’t characteristic of you, but they slip past your barriers. You just have to know why. You’ll leave if she wants you to, if the group wants you to, but you have to know what you did, so it can add to the things that keep you up at night.  
  
(Or, in the afternoon.)  
  
You don’t process what happens next very clearly, but something makes Aubrey leave and then finally Chloe’s eyes allow to meet yours. They’re blue and beautiful as always, but something covers them. Compassion. Embarrassment. Shame?  
  
“You don’t have to come anymore if you don’t want to. We’ll find someone else.”  
  
Her words sting a place you didn’t know you could still feel in your chest. Your mouth moves before you can assess and reassess the things it speaks. You just don’t understand why they’re kicking you out. Apart from the fact that you’re awful as a person to be around, you thought you weren’t so bad at singing and the stupid dance routine.  
  
You don’t care if you’re being kicked out. You just have to know what the reason is.  
  
The group of girls start to intervene and no matter the gratitude you feel for them sticking up for you once again, you’d rather them be quiet and let you leave without making a big show of it.  
  
You like quiet exits. Sometimes physical, like a short note on the kitchen table addressed to your dad to inform him you’ve packed your things again and you’ll let him know where you’re staying this time. A friend. Grandma. A stranger. You never knew yourself until your feet guided you somewhere. And sometimes emotional, like a few whispered words with no meaning to them.  
  
So, you would have loved it if Chloe simply texted you and told you why **_your presence_** wasn’t **_needed_** anymore, so you didn’t have to deal with this. Girls screaming, Aubrey getting angry, Chloe dragging you away.  
  
You would have loved for things to stay quiet. For the embarrassment to stay within the four walls of your dark room. But you’re not so lucky today.  
  
Your mind is still running through options as to what you could have done that caused all this when it’s pulled to an abrupt stop after Chloe practically breaks the door in two. The sound of the crash is nothing compared to the one in your head and you think you found out what you did wrong.  
  
You know it wasn’t wrong of you to tell the girl you simply didn’t need her in the moment, but it’s probably in the way you informed her. Your tongue has rough edges and your mind is too oblivious to analyze the way you form words and in what order.  
  
It takes you a few tries, but you’re able to convince your roommate you didn’t mean it the way she took it. You were just tired. You don’t want out of the deal, you just want to be clear on some things. That it’s just sex. And, since you’re roommates, it’s convenient to have sex with each other. When you both want it. And there’s no need for coffee dates or drunk cuddling, because it’s just sex.  
  
When the air is cleared, you feel relieved and you have faith that things will be easier from now on. That is until she kisses your lips and hops out the dressing rooms, leaving you behind like a helpless dog after a storm destroyed the city.  
  
(Wow, Beca, dramatic much?)  
  
You shake it off however, ignoring the way she tasted like cinnamon and smelled like paint, you follow her steps into the room and make sure to stay out of eye contact with Coach who’s probably still looking for a fight.  
  
But Chloe calms things down, telling the girls we’re going through with the original intended plan. ‘Turn The Beat Around’ fills the air and the girls quickly move and find their positions. It’s kind of cool for you to see how a group of goofs can go from messing around to being serious, or more serious than you’ll probably ever see them, in less than point three seconds. Fat Amy included, although you reckon she has a certain amount of goofiness programmed in her system that will never get out.  
  
You remember the steps, yet they come out a little too late every time. Soon, a girl named Ashley and another named Jessica are by your side and helping you out. Their hands are on you every now and then, so you try to remind yourself not to flinch, yet you do a little every time.  
  
(You hate it.)  
  
It helps, surprisingly. And the girl you remember as Stacie has moved to the spot in front of you. You’ve always learned quickest when you actually see how it’s done and you can just copy the movements.  
  
By the time Chloe plays the song a fifth time, you know the routine so much better. The girls must think so too, because they all move back to their designated spot in the choreography. Ashley and Jessica in the back, and Stacie between them and Cynthia-Rose who is standing behind you. The girl pats you shoulder on her way and whispers, “You’re doing great, eyeline-monster.”  
  
You smile at her, unsure what kind of compliment that was, but you’ll take it nonetheless.  
  
Fat Amy is positioned next to you and in contrast to the other girls, she’s anything but helpful. Tickles in your side and pokes on your upper arm distract you from the dance moves, but she makes you laugh and, really, how can you be mad at a girl who calls herself Fat Amy?  
  
Soon, the two captains join you and it’s messy, but you think you’ll do good as a group. It would go better if you had a song that was from this era, but you don’t think today is the right time to tell Aubrey that.  
  
Not only is she still sending you hateful glares, she’s also getting mad at some of the girls. You are all trying your best, but apparently that’s not enough for the little devil herself. You make eye contact with Chloe who just shrugs at your asking eyes. You can’t understand how she can let this happen and just shrug, as if it isn’t her problem to deal with.  
  
It is.  
  
She is co-captain. She is the one who should stand up in times like these, when her best friend is yelling and being unreasonable to people who are doing the best they can after being on their feet for over an hour.  
  
You finish the song and everyone sighs in exhaustion, but high fives are shared as this was probably one of the best ones you’ve had today.  
  
“Well, that was… Awful.”  
  
Aubrey’s words bring disappointment onto everyone’s face and you even see Fat Amy’s head fall down and sorrow covers her eyes.  
  
“Hey, isn’t that a little unfair?” You spit back quickly. “We’re all doing the best we can here.”  
  
“Obviously, that’s not good enough, then, Beca. And do you really think this is a good time for you to start?”  
  
“Can’t think of a reason why not.” You state bravely. You’re done with her putting the group down. Everyone can see they’re trying and it’s not even for a competition, it’s just a show. We don’t have to be at our very best for just a show.  
  
You expect Aubrey to snap back at you, but Chloe ends the class before any more words are thrown at each other. The group makes quick work of getting out of danger zone and you follow shortly behind.  
  
When you get through the last set of doors, the girls are all standing in a group and before you can ask them what’s going on, they’re already around you; hugging you, touching you, messing your hair up with loud screams.  
  
“I cannot believe you did that!” Stacie says after the group has calmed down and you’re able to understand what they’re yelling about.  
  
“Oh, that? That was nothing.”  
  
The girls however insist that it was indeed something, and they shower you with compliments before asking, more so dragging, you along for drinks. You’re actually having a nice time. Cynthia-Rose and Fat Amy get you laughing with almost every word they say, while you were able to have a serious conversation with Stacie and Lilly about music producers, and Jessica and Ashley are just too sweet, asking about how you got into DJ’ing and why that style of music attracted you so much.  
  
You had totally not realized you’ve been at this bar for over two hours, until Chloe texts you and you see the time.  
  
**_Beale: did you leave already ?? I just got back, was hoping to see you :(:(:( (22:31)  
_**  
You excuse yourself to Stacie and hop outside to text back.  
  
**_Beca: no, girls dragged me to some bar. Why did you just get back? (22:33)  
  
Beale: really ?!?!?! that’s awes!! :D :D (22:33)  
Beale: oh, I was with Aubrey ;) (22:34)  
Beale: are you gonna stay long ?? :(:(:( (22:34)  
  
Beca: no, was just planning on leaving, actually. See you in a bit (22:36)_**  
  
You go inside the building and find that the girls have just ordered another round of shots. You eye Stacie who’s most likely the malefactor in this crime. You down the tequila at the same time as Fat Amy who slams it almost through the long, rigid piece of wood in front of her. You laugh at her cheers as you put on your jacket. A loud, negative sighing and screams fill your ears, but Jessica and Ashley follow your lead and get up as well.  
  
“Hey, maybe we can go check out your gig.” Cynthia-Rose proposes.  
  
The girls are up and excited before you can get a word in, but you tell them no, nevertheless. You wouldn’t really mind them being there, but you’re not prepared right now.  
  
“Next time, when Beale and Ms. Stick Up Her Ass are also here.” You tell them and the group laughs loudly, mostly because of the alcohol and partly because of your joke, before accepting it.  
  
You take one step towards the door, but you’re stopped by someone’s arms around you. Soon enough, you’re getting hugged one by one by all of the Bellas and you resist, but with minimum force.  
  
“I respect the way you can hold your liquor, eyeline-monster.”  
  
“You should stand up to Aubrey more often, so we can celebrate also more often. With, alcohol. Did you see my alcohol? Did you steal my alcohol?!”  
  
“We’re gonna hold you to that gig invite, Mitchell.”  
  
Finally, you’ve had them all and you can leave the premises. Outside, you plug in your earbuds and let music fill your head as you think about the night you had.  
  
Maybe you were wrong about that group of losers. They’re still losers, but maybe cool losers.

* * *

  
You arrive back at your dorm and Chloe’s at you immediately, questioning how it was and what you guys talked about. You don’t give her any details, but you make sure she knows most of how the evening went and that you enjoyed yourself.  
  
“They asked to come to one of my gigs. Maybe we can do that, sometime.”  
  
“Becs! Yes, that would be so cool!”  
  
Chloe’s hugging and touching you while jumping up and down through the room and she looks like a stupid toddler that got what they wanted, but she also looks cute. You think to yourself how annoying she is as you make your way over. It’s quite satisfying to see her face change the way it does. From overly excited to surprised and slowly to understanding.  
  
“Oh.” She breathes out as you let your hands rest on her hips and you make sure your face is close enough for her to kiss you if she decides that’s what she wants.  
  
She does.  
  
You didn’t know how much you had missed the taste of her lips until you kiss them again. Her hands move fast in removing your clothes and a few minutes later, she’s got you gasping out holy names you don’t even believe in.  
  
“I may have figured out what I want to do after college.” Chloe tells you after second rounds while you’re kissing her stomach to let her catch her breath.  
  
“Yeah?” You ask absentmindedly before realizing this is actually a big deal. You remove your lips from her skin and lay down next to her as she tells you about her day. How she got herself in an art class, painting and enjoying it. How a girl named Hannah inspired her. How the teacher named Paul cared more about the risk she took in colors and materials than the actual creation. You don’t really understand that, but Chloe tells it convincing and with passion, so somehow it makes sense.  
  
You stay with her until the very last minute and when you hear your phone buzzing for the fifth time, you know you _really_ have to get going now. You find an outfit quickly as you text Kevin that you’re on your way. You see the hesitation in your roommate’s eyes as you pass her on the way towards the door, maybe there’s hesitation in yours as well, but that’s not what the deal is. No more kissing if they don’t lead to more. So you tell her goodnight and close the door behind you, knowing you did the right thing.  
  
Now you have to hurry to make it to the club on time, or Kevin will seriously kick your ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you guys think and liked as usual! I saw some people mentioning jealous!Beca, which I accept and will happen soon, but I couldn't fit that correctly in this chapter, hope y'all understand? But I will make that happen! Send in more requests if you have them or just let me know what you liked in this chapter ;D
> 
> Thanks all for reading and I'll try to get the next chapter up a little sooner !


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Fear is a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life." - Donald Miller
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Beca, smut, discovering new faces, another question getting asked, artsy!Chloe, minimal drama. I hope this will satisfy most people!
> 
> This one goes out to all the nice people who have come to me after the previous chapter and told me such nice things. Everyone who left a review. Everyone who is reading and enjoying this story. Because of all of you, together with a day off work, I was able to bring this chapter sooner than expected, so thanks everyone!
> 
> P.S. For all my kind readers in the The 100 fandom, I hope I can soften your pain a bit by some happy Bechloe times.

You awake quite early for a Saturday, but you’ve never been one for sleeping in, anyway. You’re excited, because today is the day the Bellas get to perform again. You have lots of stuff to do, but you start with a jog and a coffee joined by your best friend as usual. Things are still a little tense on the Beca subject, but you managed to convince Bree to go easy on her for a bit, since she’s staying and she’s a part of the group.  
  
It’s almost eleven when you exit the Starbucks and part ways with your co-captain. You’ve agreed to round up the girls at two o’clock. There are outfits that need to be tried on and knowing these girls like you do, you know you need a lot of time for that. The show isn’t until five sharp, but it’s always good to go over things and simply being together before performing.  
  
You check the time and realize Beca will either not be home yet or she’s going to be passed out, so you head over to the art section of college. It’s a Saturday morning, so you’re not surprised to find it’s empty. But the building is open and so are the classrooms. You find your painting at the exact place you left it, unharmed and untouched.  
  
The paint is dry, so its colors look different, but you’re still pleased with it. Pleased you made this. Yourself.  
  
You grab a huge chunk of paper and fold it in two, still leaving the paper to be an A1 format and way too big for what you had in mind, but you settle for it. You take different colored pencils and start drawing.  
  
You’re not sure why you told Beca about your art experience after you had decided not to inform your best friend. You’re still scared you’ll lose interest in this, but somehow your mouth decided to let Beca in on this. And you don’t regret it. She doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would go around telling people about this, or making you feel bad about it if you would lose your curiosity. It just surprised you, that you confided in her and not Aubrey.  
  
You’re probably making this a bigger deal than it is.  
  
It was just the right moment. Both coming down from the multiple orgasms, you felt closer to her and with her lips attached to your abdomen, placing lingering kisses to your skin as a sign she was there for you until you’d ridden off your high, you took the opportunity.  
  
You expected her to listen. No matter how badass she thinks she is, you know she’s kind and soft inside. She would never cut you off or walk away when she knew it was important to you. Yet, you didn’t expect her to stay in the same bed as you, covering your naked bodies with blankets as you told her about meeting Paul and the class. You didn’t expect her to ask you questions.  
  
_“Have you never thought about taking up classes before? I don’t know, you look like the artsy type.”  
  
“What did your painting look like? Bet it had a lot of yellow in it.”_  
  
You’re not sure what she meant by it then, but there’s no denying yellow is one of your favorite colors. She must have noticed since she’s living with you and sees you a lot.  
  
She also asked if you think you want to pursue this direction after college and you quickly waved it off with an ‘I don’t know, maybe’, because you don’t know. You’ve felt this way so many times before. You don’t want to tell Beca about how you spent months thinking about being an elementary teacher in your freshman year. A mathematician after you got that A in sophomore year. A veterinarian. An exotic dancer. A lawyer after watching a season of Suits. A child care worker. Bartending. An amusement park attendant. And right before you walked into that art class room, the idea was being a super senior to be able to stay a Bella.  
  
That’s the only thing you never get bored of.  
  
That’s the thing you’re best at.  
  
“Wow, didn’t think I’d be seeing you again _this_ fast.”  
  
You snap yourself out of your thoughts and turn to see Hannah walking into the room with her portfolio folded underneath her armpit and pressed against her side, heading to her spot in the front of the class as she finishes her cigarette.  
  
“You don’t mind, do you?” She asks and you think she’s talking about her smoking, so you shake your head. You don’t mind. “There are no teachers here in the weekends, so as long as I keep a window open and not set off the fire alarm, we won’t get caught.”  
  
The way she says those last words send an electric buzz through your spine. She makes it sound like it’s a dangerous adventure, and you are all for it. “Maybe getting caught is fun.” You say with a smile and you see her return it before shaking her head and facing her canvas.  
  
“It sure is.” She whispers as you spot her starting to paint.  
  
“So, what are you doing here on a Saturday?” You ask as you continue your own work.  
  
“Same as you, probably.” She shrugs, leaving you to wonder how she knows what you’re doing here. “Escaping the world. Family, friends. Problems. It’s nice and quiet here, don’t you agree?”  
  
You tell her you do and leave her to her work after that. The way she sighed the word ‘problems’ makes you think something drove her here to. Maybe something drove you here to, too.  
  
“Besides,-“ Hannah continues after ten minutes of silence. “-who’s here to tell me I can only create art on workdays? Creativity has no boundaries.”  
  
You laugh at her words and watch how she lights up another cigarette. She asks if you want one, but you turn her down. Your days of smoking were short and have long passed. You don’t miss that nasty taste in your mouth on any occasion.  
  
You chat about college and learn she’s a sophomore, stated on the same side of campus as Aubrey, has a brother who’s in his senior year, but you don’t think you know him. She tells you how both her mother and father started out as art dealers and now own their own shop. She explains how she didn’t really had a chance to be anything other than an art student, since it was always there as she grew up, but somehow she says she doesn’t mind. She likes it. She tells you something she has yet to tell her parents; she wants to be a tattoo artist. Your enthusiasm is visible, but her face lacks it. Setting tattoos isn’t considered art in the eyes of her parents, which is something you don’t understand. It might be the most pure form of a painting. Forever engraved on someone’s skin. To be seen by everyone who passes you, or something only to be witnessed by people close to you.  
  
You ask her if she has any tattoos herself, to which she answers yes, and then wonder out loud if she’s ever set any. She hasn’t. You guess that’s only logical. It’s not something you can just easily do. You need the equipment, and someone who’d be willing to volunteer. But you have no doubt she’ll be great at it. You’ve spotted some of her work, it is truly amazing.  
  
Hannah continues to talk, but your eye gets drawn towards the window next to the entrance. Beca’s lips are parted, as if she wants to speak or hanging in surprise because your eyes found her. Her pupils are big, but you can see the tiredness behind them. She shakes her head and loses the shocked face, trading it in for awkwardness and inability to move. You can tell she wants to explain what she’s doing here in the way she licks her lips and moves her hand over her face. But you can also tell she wants to run far away from here, because her eyes shift between the ground and the door to your eyes and .. To Hannah? You’re not sure.  
  
Before you can let Beca make the decision, you do it for her and stand up. You quickly excuse yourself to Hannah and meet your roommate in the hallway.  
  
“Hey.” You say softly, eyes keeping ahold of hers, refusing to let her look away.  
  
“Hey.” She replies.  
  
You stay quiet for a few seconds, lost in each other’s eyes and you can’t help but smile at how innocent she looks. “What are you doing here?” You ask finally.  
  
“Oh, right, I-, it’s stupid. It’s not even anything” Beca spits out as if she only has one last breath to breathe, so you take her hand in yours and she flinches. She always does. Her hand tenses and hesitates, but wraps around yours at last. Then she takes a deep breath, probably pulling herself together before continuing her explanation. “It’s just, I texted you a few times and you didn’t respond. I figured you’d be here, so I’d come to see you. But, it’s not important, I was just worried and, I just wanted to see you.” She stumbles.  
  
You felt your phone vibrate a few times, you’re not going to pretend you didn’t. But Hannah was in the middle of her story and checking your phone would seem a sign of being uninterested. Which you weren’t. Had you known it was Beca who was sending you messages, perhaps you wouldn’t have cared about what Hannah thinks of you.  
  
“I didn’t know it was you.” You tell your roommate, running your thumb over her index finger as you talk. “I thought you’d be sleeping, so I went here.”  
  
Beca’s head moves to check the inside of the room and you think you see her jaw clench as her eyes fall on the only person there. But then she’s back, smiling at you, weakly, but smiling nonetheless. “I didn’t mean to disturb.”  
  
You feel your friend pull her hand from out of your grip, scratching at her upper arm as if that’s the reason she had to let your hand go, moving away from you and towards the door that leads out the building. “You didn’t.” You say quickly, desperate to keep her from walking away.  
  
“If I had known you were with someone, I wouldn’t-“  
  
“Beca, I’m not _with_ anyone!”  
  
“I bet that’s Hannah inside, isn’t it?”  
  
You wonder what that has to do with anything, but now you definitely saw her jaw clench this time and her fingers are bent, nails digging hard into her palm. But she’s not mad. Her eyes don’t scream or shoot out fire. They’re weak. They’re begging you to reassure her. You don’t know about what.  
  
“Yes, that’s Hannah.” You didn’t mean to end your sentence there, but Beca’s face falls, eyes meeting the cold floor underneath her and she smiles. It’s disgusting and tasteless. It’s actually hurting you, physically, like a punch in the stomach. As if you did something wrong. “I was in there, drawing, when she came in. We were chatting about-“  
  
“You know, you don’t have to befriend everyone you meet, Beale.”  
  
Her words are bitter and her face matches them. You have absolutely no idea where all this is coming from, but when Hannah exits the room behind you, telling you she’s heading out, all you can do is follow Beca’s eyes. First to where her face must be, then to where her hand is touching your arm and trails over your back as she passes you, and finally to her exiting the building. Beca’s teeth are grinding so hard, you can practically hear them scraping over each other. One of her hands rest underneath her chin and the other holds her elbow close and pressed against herself. Her feet are shifting, toes tapping within her sneakers, and you haven’t seen her like this before, but you put two and two together.  
  
“Oh my God, Becs!” You yelp and push her body back a little harder than intended, because she falls back and has to take a few steps to regain control over her body.  
  
“What!” She yells back, staring profoundly disturbing at your (probably way too smug) grin.  
  
“Nothing.” You state suddenly uninterested as you head back into the classroom. “You’re just cute when you’re jealous.”  
  
“What?! I am not jealous!”  
  
You smile to yourself when you realize Beca has followed you into the room and is now on the other side of the table where your drawing is lying on. “Cute” is all you say once your eyes are locked.  
  
Beca sighs heavily and you just laugh until she’s done. “Whatever, I’m out of here.”  
  
“No, wait.” She hadn’t even started walking, but you felt like you had to stop her anyway. “You never said why you wanted to see me.”  
  
You watch Beca stumble and her face turns a shade of red, so you grab your phone and check your unread messages, even when she yells at you not to.  
  
**Tiny DJ: where you at Beale? I’ve had a long night and I need you (11:48)  
Tiny DJ: really? I didn’t think you’d be the one to ignore sexts (12:02)  
Tiny DJ: altho that wasn’t really a sext. Was it? (12:04)  
Tiny DJ: ugh this is not the time to play hard to get, woman (12:11)**  
  
You’ve just finished reading the last one when Beca takes the phone out of your hand. You put on a smile that makes sure she knows you read it.  
  
“Can we please just forget I sent all that?” Beca pleads with many sighs and a throw of her head back for dramatic effect.  
  
“Why would I want to forget you want me?” You stand up and trap her between your body and the table next to yours. “Did you come looking for me, because you _needed_ me so much?”  
  
“Oh my God.”  
  
“No, what was the plan? Was it to have sex in this classroom?”  
  
Beca reacts to your touch the same way she always does. Eyes practically popping out of her skull, her muscles where you touch her tense up and it always takes a second for her to relax again. You wait for that while your hands stay on her sides. You can feel her abdomen through the fabric and finally she allows herself to breathe again.  
  
“Maybe.” She whispers.  
  
You have to restrain yourself from kissing her right there and then, because she’s so sexy with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, her eyes trained on yours where lust fuels you, but you can’t make the first move. She needs you. She needs to show it.  
  
So, you wrap your arms around her neck and wait patiently. Beca’s hands find your hips first. She pulls you against her and you giggle a little at how smooth she did that. After that, it only takes her a second to connect your lips and you’re glad, because you don’t think you would have been able to control yourself much longer.  
  
She wastes no time with slipping past your barriers, licking into your mouth and running into your tongue with hers. She tastes like Red Bull like always, but there’s a hint of chocolate there that makes you smile.  
  
You hadn’t even realized she flipped positions with you, until she rips off your shirt and you’re lying on the wooden table in your bra and jeans, which she also makes quick work of and then it’s just the bra and underwear, with your roommate in between your legs.  
  
You sit up to kiss her and get her out of her clothes as well, wondering how it’s possible to want someone so much when you’ve had them only a few hours ago. Multiple times.  
  
“Oh, Hannah.” You moan awfully faked, wearing a smile already, but you crack up when you see Beca’s facial expression. You collapse back onto the table, laughter causing pain in your lower abdomen, and Beca quickly on top of you.  
  
“Shut up, you’re the worst.” She tells you as she bites down hard at your neck and collarbone, resulting your laughs to be replaced with groans instead.  
  
You find your voice again, however, once you see your friend’s smug face. “Harder, Hannah!” You scream again, giggles escaping you immediately.  
  
“Are you going to do this the entire time?” She asks you before attaching her lips to yours. The kiss involves a lot of biting and fighting for control before Beca claims victory and moves her mouth to your chest.  
  
“What? Is that not your name? Oh, I’m sorry, who are you again?” You play while Beca moves her lips lower and lower down your body.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the whole campus hears you scream my name.”  
  
You already feel her hands on your thighs, fingers moving quickly upwards while her lips continue to move down over your skin. They meet at the same time and you wish you could proof her wrong, but you can’t.  
  
A minute later, you’re moaning out her name while her tongue moves inside of you, sucking on your wet folds, her thumb rubbing over your clit. It’s really no wonder you break record time, but Beca doesn’t stop when your whole body tenses up and you clasp around her. She just replaces her mouth by her fingers and you taste yourself on her lips when she kisses you. Her hips start to grind on the hand that’s in between your two bodies, and the action helps you over the edge maybe faster than the first time.  
  
You’re glad Beca allows you to breathe this time as you feel her fingers slip out of you. You take your rest on that cold table while your roommate places kisses on your neck and torso. She’s still moving her hips against you, slow this time, and probably unnoticed, but you notice. The denim pressing into you softly is enough to want more.  
  
But you enjoy the moment where your friend is kissing and biting your neck and jaw while your hips move in sync with each other for as long as you can. Eventually, Beca starts to move back until her feet are back on the ground and you sit up to follow her every move.  
  
But there is no movement. She’s just standing there, shirtless and in her jeans, staring at you, her hands resting on your knees as if she has to be in contact with you.  
  
(You know that’s not true, but you let yourself believe that in this moment.)  
  
You jump off the table and quickly bring your lips in contact again, before Beca can leave this moment or the room in general. If you could have any thoughts at all, you would possibly think of how scary it is to have someone around who has no problem with leaving. Or maybe you would think of the feeling you get in your stomach when Beca smiles into the kiss. Or maybe you’d think about the fact that people can come into this building and be met with your naked body on instant. But you don’t have the ability to think when Beca’s kissing you. Not necessarily when her tongue in in your mouth, or when her nails dig into your hips. Just simply her lips on yours is enough to still your mind.  
  
Beca sighs into your mouth just when you slam her against a cabinet in the back of the class. She curses and you giggle, but you don’t stop kissing. It’s probably the most ridiculous thing ever, but you don’t care how it looks. You don’t want to stop kissing her.  
  
But then you realize what Beca told you.  
  
You stop for a second and you think she noticed, but you kiss her again quickly before getting your hands out from her hair and you move them down to her waistband.  
  
“You don’t have to do that.” She whispers against your lips.  
  
“I do.” You say as you struggle with the button on her pants. You normally have this off in a second. “You need me.” You try to fill the silence and keep Beca from noticing how badly your fingers are shaking.  
  
But Beca’s hands wrap around your wrists and she moves them until your hands are resting on her hips. “This is enough.” She says before her lips find yours again.  
  
You could not be any more confused, but you decide this isn’t the right time to ask her about it. This is the right time to just kiss her back and leave everything else be.  
  
“Besides, Fat Amy texted me that we’re getting together with the girls at two for the performance.” Beca continues. “It’s almost two.”  
  
It takes you approximately one and a half minute to register exactly what Beca just told you, which is when you jump back from her and check the time. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, Aubrey’s going to kill me, we have to go, now!”  
  
“I don’t want to be a dick, but could you maybe mind your language. I don’t like people who swear so much.”  
  
You can’t help but laugh. “Get your cute butt moving!”

* * *

  
You and Beca arrive what must be seconds after the rest of the group, since they’re just losing their coats and are still very noisy. No one notices you and Beca being the last to enter the room. You’re grateful for that.  
  
Soon, you and Aubrey tell the girls about how this day is going to be. You’re going to start with the final rehearsal where everyone must act like it’s the actual performance. Aubrey tells them they must have it right the first time, but you know you will just keep going until it seems okay.  
  
Turns out that even that is unrealistic, because after six attempts, your best friend throws in the towel and gives up on trying to get out what’s not in there. It’s not that you’re terrible. But you’re not that good either. Things look rather messy, but you have faith that it will work out during the actual show.  
  
You move on to the dressing rooms where you help the girls into the typical Bella outfits, and try to get Beca out of hers by sending her looks and winks every time she changes an item. It’s a good thing all the girls know you as a touchy person, because no one finds it weird how you lay your hand on the back of Beca’s back when you pass her, or fix her skirt with your hands touching her ass.  
  
You like the way she whispers _‘dude’_ when you do. And how her cheeks light up, how her eyes go anywhere but at you. But at the same time, the corners of her lips lift and you know she secretly likes it.  
  
You’re starting to like it a little too much. With every look you share and every time your feet move, because your hands simply have to touch her, the urge to kiss her grows bigger and bigger. But the room is filled with girls who know nothing of your arrangement, and you think it’s best to keep it that way.

* * *

  
Finally, you have all the girls dressed and when Aubrey approves of everyone’s outfit, you’re off and ready to show everyone what you’ve got.  
  
“Uh, why are we walking?” Beca asks when you make it outside.  
  
“Because! It’s here.” You explain simply.  
  
“Here? Like, close by or..?”  
  
“No, silly! It’s on campus.” You hear Beca sigh almost immediately.  
  
“You’re telling me we busted our balls just to have a gig on campus?”  
  
Aubrey takes over from you. “A show is a show, Beca. It doesn’t matter where it’s held.”  
  
You give Beca a wink and she rolls her eyes in return.  
  
You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of that.

* * *

 

* * *

  
You’ve had time to think about the day while you’re alone up in that DJ booth. It’s a Friday night, so of course the floor below you is crowded with drunk idiots. Tonight, they can’t really get to you, however.  
  
Chloe’s on your mind.  
  
First simply her body. The way she moved against you. The way she touched you. Kissed you. The way her walls clenched around you. The way she took the air from your body with one, single curl of her fingers.  
  
But then you think about how she told you what she plans on doing after college. You feel kind of proud that she figured it out. You can’t imagine what that’s like. You’ve always known you want to do something within the music industry. It must be hard to be a senior in college where everyone’s certain of their future plans, and you have no clue. So you’re happy for her. You’re glad that she thinks she found her path.  
  
Even if this isn’t it for her, at least she’s crossed one of. You have no doubt she’ll be fine either way.  
  
You spin your next track, but Chloe won’t leave your mind. You see her eyes now, when she told you she’d be okay with you leaving the Bellas. You can’t believe she thought that’s what you wanted. To be frank, you can’t really blame her. You’re distant and it probably seems like you don’t care about the group. She knows you’re planning on leaving after this first year, anyway. But maybe you’re not anymore.  
  
You don’t want to think about that now.  
  
The point is, everything about you screams that you’ll leave. You haven’t even unpacked that stupid bag, for Christ’s sake. No wonder Chloe’s been hanging out with other people, trying to get you replaced. That Hannah person is probably a better singer, dancer and human being in general.  
  
Whatever.  
  
You leave the club at seven am after a few drinks with Kevin who’s been going off about how proud he is you’re doing the gig at Flashin’.  
  
That’s the last thing on your mind right now. You head home and you’re glad it’s a Saturday, because you really don’t want to stock CDs right now. Soon enough, you find yourself back in your dorm. The ginger isn’t there, must be with her evil best friend, then.  
  
Your eyes find the stupid bag on the end of your bed. It lays perfectly, the way it always did. In your previous dorm at that other college. In the room you have in your dad’s new house. In that empty stockroom you found. Your neighbors’ garage. Even in your grandma’s guestroom.  
  
It always looked the same. Filled with clothes, it always lied like this.  
  
Every one of those rooms were the same to you. It was cold and nothing that could give away it was yours. No memories there. No reason to unpack. They were just stops along your way. Where to, you don’t know.  
  
Without reading too much into this, you start to unpack. You don’t want this to be a big deal, it’s just a stupid bag and some dumb clothes. Minutes later, everything is laying on one big pile in the closet you share with your roommate. It was already a messy space, so you don’t think Chloe will mind if you clean this up tomorrow or something.  
  
You throw the bag under your bed in lack of better places and catch up on some sleep.  
  
You startle awake hours later by some people screaming and banging on doors in the hallway.  
  
_God, you hate this place._  
  
You scam the room, but there’s no evidence your roommate has come back. You grab a Red Bull, wondering where she might be. You take out your phone and text her, so she knows you didn’t just say all those things to get her to forgive you, because you didn’t. You actually did not need her in that moment. And if you’re going to make this deal work, you better show you need her at some point.  
  
You don’t know if simply telling someone you need them is considered ‘sexting’, but if it leads to sex, then maybe it is.  
  
To make that happen, she’d have to reply in the first place. You wonder where she could be. With whom she could be. Without much contemplation, you head out and go to the only place you can think of.

* * *

  
Your stomach twists itself in knots at the sight.  
  
Your roommate leaning over some girl, laughing, pointing at the paining in front of her. You can’t actually see what’s on it, but you reckon it’s awful and terrible.  
  
(Ugh, why are you so hateful?)  
  
Chloe heads back to a spot in the back where a big piece of paper is laid down before her. You know she might not have noticed it, but you could see the way the girl was staring at her as she walked away. And she’s basically undressing her with her eyes right now. Although, she might just be looking at her, but whatever. It’s the same.  
  
(Is it, though?)  
  
Chloe is a beautiful girl, alright? Everyone would be lucky to simply have her attention. She’s too nice to separate the bad from the good. This girl obviously wants something from her. More than friendship. And you don’t know why that pisses you off as much as it does, but it makes your blood clot faster than usual. You feel like you’re in a tunnel and it’s dark, the only thing you can see is Chloe and this girl. And you don’t know how many minutes have passed since you arrived in this building, but suddenly your roommate finds you.  
  
You’re frozen in place and the thought of running away is all that screams inside your head, but Chloe’s eyes won’t let you go. You watch her lips move and you wish you could make out what she says, but you guess it doesn’t matter, because she leaves the girl alone in the room to join you in the cold hallway.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey.”  
  
She asks you what you’re doing here and of course you don’t have a sane answer. You can’t tell her you hate the times she doesn’t wake you up by being annoying. The times she’s not around to bitch about the amount of energy drinks in your system. The times she makes you laugh when you don’t want to.  
  
You can’t tell her you missed her.  
  
(Wait, what?)  
  
You tell her you were worried about where she was and everything is fine, until you check the room behind your roommate and there’s the girl. She’s watching the two of you, like a fucking creep.  
  
(She smiles at you, but you don’t return this.)  
  
Anger fills you again like it did when you saw this person eying Chloe and words slip out of your mouth. “I bet that’s Hannah inside, isn’t it?” You hate yourself as soon as you’ve spoken, but that’s all you could think about. You wish Chloe would tell you you’re wrong. That this isn’t the girl that helped her find passion in art. That this isn’t the person she so happily told you about last night. The person she thought about while you were touching her.  
  
But, of course, she can’t.  
  
You can tell the girl in front of you is confused about everything you’re doing and saying right now. It sure doesn’t help that this Hannah person joins you in the hallway.  
  
“Hi Chlo, I’m gonna go, alright? See you later!”  
  
Her hands were all over your roommate and you wish you responded on your instinct and slapped them off, but you’re sane enough to know you can’t do that. Chloe isn’t your property. She’s not your anything, to be exact. Not even a friend. Just a girl you made a deal with. You don’t have the right to tell her who can touch her and who can’t.  
  
Chloe tells you you’re jealous, which you are **_so_** not. That is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard. You don’t get jealous, you simply care too little about things. But it leads you to sex, so you let her have her fun with it.  
  
You realize that afternoon that the deal you made isn’t as simple as you thought it would. You don’t really see the lines anymore. You kiss her lips and body even when your hands aren’t down her pants, but this all would still fall under sex if you had it categorized, right?  
  
You try not to think about it too much. You’re allowed to kiss her in this moment. You’re not allowed to kiss every time you leave a room or whenever you have the desire to. But in this moment, you’re allowed, so you stop pondering over it.

* * *

  
Your roommate and you walk hand in hand to where the final rehearsal is held. Your hand starts to get sweaty after a few minutes, but you ignore it.  
  
“Did I tell you about that gig I have tonight?” You actually can’t remember if you told her or not.  
  
“What? No, tell me, Becs!”  
  
You explain that Flashin’ is one of the coolest clubs around here and Kevin got you in as a DJ tonight. Chloe’s excitement shows in the way her eyes drill in the side of your face as you talk and her smile is visible with no requirement of looking at her. So, you continue. You tell her what mixes you plan on spinning and how this is the biggest audience you will ever have. She tells you everything will be fine and people will love you no matter what songs you play.  
  
You’re not sure why, but you believe her.  
  
You arrive at the gym where all the others are already getting ready. The rehearsal doesn’t go that well and of course Miss Drama Queen goes off on a rant about how everything will go to shit and you guys fuck everything up.  
  
(Not in those words, unfortunately.)  
  
After Chloe takes her best friend to the side to calm down, she returns alone and takes you guys into the dressing room to change. Normally you can get ready in a few minutes, at ease. But with your half naked roommate running around, her hands touching you every time she passes, the times you catch her staring at you and she doesn’t even look away, it complicates things to say the least. Every time you think you’re ready, Chloe pops up to unbutton one of your top buttons, or to volunteer to fix your scarf for you.  
  
You can honestly say it’s way harder to get into clothes than out of them when that stupid ginger is around.

* * *

  
_“No, silly! It’s on campus.”_  
  
For God’s sake, of course it is. You don’t know why you’re surprised. You thought all this work and reaching for perfection would be for something with a few more people and a lot less creepy college guys.  
  
But here you are, on the steps of the stairs behind the freaking chemistry labs. With approximately thirty people standing in front of you, mostly people who’ve stopped on their way to class because they have a few minutes to spare with lack of better things to do.  
  
You can tell by their reactions, whether it’s laughter or people simply walking away, you know your group sucks.  
  
You suck.  
  
You try to remember the steps the way the girls showed you, but it’s like your mind recollects it right the second after you’re supposed to move. You feel stupid that you can’t do this lame thing, but you know it’s not just you. Every single one of the girls is doing their own thing. You don’t move like a group, you move individually. And individually you’re not bad. But, as a group, you are.  
  
Some guy cuts you off and you couldn’t be more thankful for that. Aubrey goes to talk to him and you share a weak smile with Chloe. You haven’t forgotten what Coach said at that party. If you didn’t do good enough, she threatened to have you kicked out.  
  
You don’t know if she will, but you know Chloe is scared of that, too, in this moment.  
  
In silence, you all follow Aubrey and Chloe back into the gym you came from. You change back into your own clothes without anyone saying a word. Everyone is disappointed, that’s clear to see. But that doesn’t stop Aubrey from exploding the moment you all walk back into the room. You don’t even register what she’s saying, but the fact that she’s screaming is enough for you.  
  
“Is all this necessary?”  
  
“Aca-cuse me, Beca?”  
  
“I’m just saying, we can all agree that went really shitty. But we’re all disappointed about it. Maybe you can talk about what went right and what we can work on to-“  
  
She cuts you off. _Of course she does._  
  
“This is war, Beca, and it is my job to make sure that my soldiers are prepped at go time with three kickass songs sung and choreographed to perfection. And there are only four months until regionals. So if you have a problem with the way I run the Bellas, then you should just-“  
  
This time Chloe’s the one to intervene, but not with words, just with a simple arm around the girl.  
  
_She’s too fucking nice._  
  
“Relax, Bree, we don’t want a repeat of what happened last year.”  
  
No one seems to know what that’s about, but Lilly pulls up a YouTube video to clear things up. You see Aubrey vomiting, but that’s not even the most horrific thing about the footage. You see all the old Bellas, wearing the exact same thing you’re all wearing right now, dancing the exact same choreography you learned.  
  
This is insane. If Coach holds onto old habits so strongly, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to ever change her mind about just singing a different song. This is engraved in her soul and you don’t think you can carve it out just by being a constant dick about those songs.  
  
“Enough!” Aubrey yells and the entire room is quiet immediately. “It happened.” She states without a hint of sorrow in her eyes, but you know she feels ashamed of it. “From now on, we will practice every day, seven days a week, for at least two hours. No exceptions.”  
  
The girls sigh, but they seem to accept it. Chloe tells the group you can start with that tomorrow and take the rest of the day off. Everyone moves towards the door on instant. “Hey Coach, did we learn that exact same choreography to The Sign as in that video?” You ask outside the hearing of others. You may not like this girl, but she’s been embarrassed enough for the day.  
  
“Beca, a word?” She says as if she didn’t even hear you. “Alone.” She states and you have to look around the room to see she’s talking about Chloe.  
  
“Uhm, I’ll be out in a sec, Beale.” You say and watch how Chloe exits the door.  
  
“Listen Beca, I should kick you out right now, but I can tell Chloe likes to have you around, so I’m not going to do that. I’m going to keep you right here where I can keep a close eye on you.”  
  
“Wow, you really don’t like me, do you?”  
  
“I don’t like your intensions with my best friend.”  
  
“You don’t even know me.”  
  
She hesitates, but decides to keep quiet after that. She shrugs her shoulders and walks into the dressing room without another word.  
  
You shake it off and head outside where you tell your roommate she simply wanted to tell you that she’s not kicking you out. Yet.

* * *

  
“You wanna go for coffee?” Chloe asks you only minutes after arriving back in the dorm.  
  
“What, now?”  
  
She nods and you want to ask why she didn’t say something when you passed it on the way home, but you just grab your jacket and hold the door open for her.  
  
(When did you get so whipped?)

* * *

  
“Why did you unpack your bag?” She asks the second you sit down in the booth.  
  
You take a zip of your hot drink before speaking. “That’s number four, you know. You're getting close to ten. Are you sure you want to waste it on this?” You’re not sure how you’re able to tell when she’s seriously asking you something apart from the thousands of questions she asks you in one day time, but you do.  
  
She nods quickly and she seems sure of herself, so you have no other choice but to answer it truthfully.  
  
  
“Maybe I’m not thinking about leaving, anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! Tell me what you liked in this chapter, tell me what you wanna see more of. Come talk to me on Tumblr at lifeisbechloe, maybe? I wanted this chapter to be a happy one with minimal drama and pain, but who knows how long that will last with Beca Mitchell, am I right? ;) See y'all soon!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "She was the most beautiful woman I've ever met. And she was pretty to look at, too." - Pierce Brown
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I apologize for the super long wait on this. I wanna thank mysterious-teen-blogger on Tumblr for trying to get me to understand US school systems xd I tried, guys! Also, this isn't edited, because I don't even like this chapter, I wanted to take this a different direction, but I don't wanna spend another month re-writing so, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes in it.
> 
> Let's just got on with it, eh? ;)

“Maybe I’m not thinking about leaving, anymore.”  
  
You’re not sure you heard that correctly, but Beca continues.  
  
“I mean, Aubrey just had a perfectly good reason to kick me out and she didn’t. And I’ve been thinking about what you said about how maybe a degree will help me become a producer. Maybe I can give this a try. I’m not sure yet but-“ Her eyes finally meet yours and she smiles. “I think I can stay.”  
  
You had never expected this from her simply clearing out the contents of that bag. When you walked into that room, it was the first thing you noticed. Her bed was messy and clothing items laid upon it, but it was free from the thing that contained more than just physical things.  
  
You wanted to ask Beca about it right there and then, but you asked her for coffee instead. Somehow, this booth in the dark corner of the shop feels like a safe place for you two. Like she could run away at any given time, but not when you’re here. Like she’ll lie at whatever time she wants, but not in this place. Like she could be your friend, or more, but only here.  
  
And it’s nice to have a place like that with Beca. One where you trust one another to listen and respond honestly. One where you don’t have to worry about what the other person thinks. One where you can open up if you want. One where you are not alone.  
  
You hope Beca sees this spot the same way.  
  
“I think that’s great, Becs!” You’re really happy she has decided to stay, but something tells you it won’t be as easy as your new friend makes it out to be. “So, what are you gonna do?”  
  
Beca shifts in the spot in front of you and her hands fold around the cup for warmth or to hide how they’re shaking. “I don’t know, I kinda,- I just came to a decision, actually.”  
  
“Oh.” You process quickly. “Okay, so obviously you have missed the first exams of the year. We have to do something about that. I’d say we go right to the Dean of Students for this.”  
  
Beca’s hands unfold and are now in your face, limiting the nice view you had. “Ho, ho, hold up. I don’t think we need to go to the Dean, I mean, I can probably talk to a counselor or something.”  
  
“Okay, who’s your student counselor?” You ask smug, already knowing the answer.  
  
“I don’t,- I don’t know.”  
  
“What classes do you have?”  
  
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know, exactly.” She sighs.  
  
“Do you know any professors who may be able to help you?”  
  
“Okay, okay, I get it. Dean of Students it is.”  
  
“Great.” The clapping of your hands comes natural. “Now that we have that settled, we have to get that cute butt of yours into classes.” She blushes at the wink you give her and it makes your smile all the bigger. You ask the passing waiter if he has a piece of paper and a pen for you to borrow, and you start to write as soon as he hands your request. “Okay, so you’re in Humanities and Arts.” You say as you write that down at the head of the paper.  
  
“Wait, humanity? That seems wrong.”  
  
You chuckle and look up to see Beca sticking her tongue out to you. _What a child_. “It’s not forcing you to talk to people, Becs, relax. It involves human history,-“ You write that down. “-and linguistics.” You write that down, too. “That’s just the scientific study of language. Philology, phonetics, pragmatics. It’s really interesting.”  
  
“Oh, God.”  
  
“Then there’s art. You’ll have English Lit classes, as well as other languages.” That also goes on paper. “Performing arts, visual arts, yes, you’ll have some music recording classes. Then of course Psychology, physics, another few basic classes.” You write a few of those down as well and hand Beca the paper.  
  
You pay for coffee and head out towards the Italian restaurant across the street. It’s a small place and there’s only three other couples besides you there. Beca orders a BBQ Chicken pizza which sounds disgusting to you, but when she later gives you a slice, it’s not as bad as you had thought it would be. You like your spaghetti with meatballs better, though.  
  
You both enjoy your meals while you tell her about the experiences you had with those classes years ago. Beca seems to appreciate it. She seems to be reassured of whatever worries she had.  
  
You have agreed to go to the Dean first thing Monday morning, but you’re not sure Beca has simply stated she’s going or if she wants you to come along. You guess you’ll have to wait to ask her that, because she asks the waitress for the check. She tells you she’s got it, but you don’t let her pay for everything. You end up splitting the check and you happily exit the small restaurant while Beca hands you one of her earplugs where music’s already blasting out of.  
  
You think of how fast you two came to this point. Beca Mitchell, the girl who didn’t even grant you a glance the first time you met her, is now walking beside you after a nice meal, more than the chords of her earplugs connecting the two of you. And it’s nice, how fast you’re able to unravel her and learn about her. But maybe this isn’t about that anymore. Maybe it’s about more.  
  
You walk back to your dorm in silence. The sun is already starting to set and you know it’s not long before Beca has to head out. She has her show tonight at one of the biggest clubs around and you’re proud, but also slightly curious. Ever since she told you, you’ve been contemplating going to see her. Maybe without her noticing, maybe surprise her in that DJ booth.  
  
(You have no idea how to get in one of those, but you’re sure you can find people and talk yourself in.)  
  
You’ve been wondering to ask the rest of the group along, since things are pretty tense after that fiasco. But you don’t think Beca would appreciate that. Maybe you should save that for another time.  
  
Concentrating more so on your thoughts and less on where you’re walking, you almost crash into a young boy you identify as Beca’s friend Jesse when your eyes are brought to focus.  
  
“Be-caw!” He yells out, smile growing from ear to ear. He’s cute, good looking, you decide. His brown eyes and amazingly white teeth are the first thing you notice, since he seems to be one to smile a lot.  
  
You like that.  
  
He’s wearing jeans, a brown t-shirt and a slightly darker sweater to overcome the chilly weather on this cloudy autumn day. You don’t exactly remember seeing him in general, but you know you did on the night of the party. You saw him, you just didn’t really remember anything about him. Except the way you felt when you saw him, because you’re feeling it again.  
  
“I have amazing news, I talked to Luke and he offered me a job! Not so much a job as anything that pays, but I see it more as a free unlimited permission pass to the store.”  
  
You giggle and move your eyes to Beca. She seems rather uninterested, so you squeeze her hand to let her know she should be nice and smile or say something in return. Instead, her eyes grow wide and you see her gulp as she jerks her hand out of yours.  
  
It seems as though she had forgotten you were holding hands.  
  
You can’t say you put much thought into it, either. It just happened. She hands you an earplug, you take her hand and walk home. That’s just how it goes.  
  
“Oh, Beale, this is Jesse. Jesse, Beale.”  
  
“It’s Chloe, actually.” You say with your eyes narrowed at Beca, trying to hide your smile. You don’t want anyone else to use the name she calls you with. Finally, you release her gaze and lock eyes with the boy in front of you. You smile and hug him quickly.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Chloe. I’m Jesse.”  
  
“Yeah, I know you. You’re a Treble, right?”  
  
“Yes, and you two are Barden Bellas. Guess that makes us rivals.”  
  
You just smile at that and watch how his eyes stay trained on Beca. Something nasty grows around your stomach, but you refuse to acknowledge it. He’s just a friend of Beca. That’s it.  
  
“So, I should probably leave you girls to it.” He says as he clears the way and holds his hand out for you to pass, as the gentleman he is. “Oh, and good luck tonight, Be-caw!”  
  
You turn the corner, hands shoved in your pockets, so they don’t accidently end up in Beca’s again. You didn’t know she told him. You don’t know why it matters to you, because it’s not like it was a secret between the two of you.  
  
You don’t allow yourself to get jealous over this. You simply don’t allow it. So what if he knows? She’s still here, besides you. Going home with you. You tell yourself it’s nice Beca’s making friends. Especially now that she’s decided to stay. You could not be happier about that. You just have to accept that you won’t be her only friend anymore. That she’ll meet new people in class and you won’t be the only one who wants to figure her out, anymore.  
  
That’s okay, though. No one should have just one friend, that’s probably unhealthy.  
  
“What time do you leave?” You ask Beca as you hold the door open and walk inside the building towards your room.  
  
“I think I’m gonna go see Kevin first, tell him my set list, you know? Thank him.”  
  
“Yeah, totes. So, before midnight this time?”  
  
“Yeah, probably should leave here around eleven, I think.”  
  
She, in return, holds open the door to your shared room. You spend the remaining two hours you get to spend with her of this day listening to the songs she’s planning to spin in the club. You don’t think you will find anything more beautiful in this world than Beca’s face in that moment. With one of her mixes on, she looks professional, critical at her own work, hands dancing centimeters above her laptop to make sure the beat is correct. But her lips are a little curled, a hint that she’s proud. And her eyes shimmer at her screen, you miss them whenever she closes them for half a second.  
  
You know in this moment that this is her happiness. It isn’t loud parties with friends or rolling over the floor laughing with a partner. It’s not her whole family around the dinner table at Thanksgiving, or getting appreciation for her work. It’s not friends, or family, a significant other or people in general. She makes her own happiness.  
  
It’s long past eleven when you’re still thunderstruck at your revelation. Amazed by someone who’s a freshman, yet more grown up than you will ever be. Someone who’s not looking for people’s approval, but rather her own. Someone who can stand being without others, but never without herself.  
  
You wonder if you will ever be like that. Careless to what other people think of you. People’s opinion matter to you, sometimes to a point that you forget your own. Forget you have one, or forget you’re allowed one, you don’t know. It feels like you do most things to please people. You wonder if you even have your own opinion, or if you just go with what the majority wants you to do.  
  
It surely would help explain why you have not yet been able to choose a career path. It scares you to pick something that you’re going to have to do for the rest of your life. What if it doesn’t suit someone? What if your parents think something else would be more fitting for you?  
  
You shake those thoughts off and think of Beca. Through everything with her dad, she is still going to do whatever she wants to do. And that’s probably how it’s supposed to be. The choices should be yours to make and if you lose interest in something, they are yours to lose.

* * *

  
It’s cold and dark outside, but it doesn’t stop your feet from moving. You need moments like these. Those moments of complete clarity who push you to go for what you want. You know they don’t usually last longer than a couple hours, so you can’t possibly wait until the morning. You need to do this now.  
  
In what is probably record time, you’ve made it across campus and you can already see the Art section in front of you. You start to feel relief, but it doesn’t last long.  
  
“What?!” You mumble out loud as your hands push and pull at an obviously closed door. You don’t know why you’re surprised, because it’s past midnight on a Saturday night. Of course the buildings are locked.  
  
You sit down with your hands folded around your face. You feel frustrated. You need to make something right now, so you can figure out if art is what you really want. At this moment, you really like it. But you don’t know how to find out if you will still like it ten, twenty, forty years from now. How do people do it? How does Beca do it?  
  
You wallow in self-pity for a few more minutes before you force yourself to get up and go home. You walk past some students along the way. Some greet you, others try to get you to come with them to a party. You don’t have to look at them to see they’re already drunk. You politely decline and continue your way.  
  
“Hey, stranger.”  
  
You look up into the darkness, watching a figure moving closer until you can see it’s Tom. His brown hair and sweet smirk bring you back to all the times you two spent together. Mostly good, some bad. You try to focus on the good, though. You greet him back and he spreads his arms for you to step in. He smells like the cologne he always put on before going out. He never would listen to you when you told him it was too much. Not because the scent was too strong, it’s actually a really classic fragrance with a hint of sweetness and it smells a bit like lavender and grass. But you liked his natural scent and all the cologne took away his freshly soaped skin.  
  
“You look good, babe. How’ve you been? Not heading to a party alone now, are you?”  
  
You chuckle. “No, I’m actually heading home.”  
  
“On a Saturday? No can do, babe. That’s unacceptable.” He hesitates, a sigh leaving his mouth. “The guys organized this small thing.”  
  
“Tom, I’m not going to a party with you.” You say, a smile on your face to let him know there’s no hard feelings, you just can’t. He’s in your past.  
  
“No, of course.” He smiles, sorrow and regret fill his eyes.  
  
You know he’s a good guy and he never meant to hurt you. It wasn’t even completely his fault. You had a weird relationship where lines were blurry and eventually crossed without meaning to. You don’t hold anything against him, and you know that he knows that. But just because you forgive someone, doesn’t mean they should be back in your life.  
  
“I love you, Chloe. Take care of yourself.”  
  
You tell him you love him, too, because you do. Maybe above anything else, he was your best friend for many years, together with Aubrey. You will always have love for him. He kisses your cheek before returning to his group of friends and you move along.  
  
You’ve almost made it back to your dorm when you hear your phone buzz. It’s a text from Stacie, telling you to come over for drinks with the girls. You’re inside the bar minutes later, greeted by your group of girls. Everyone’s there, even Aubrey, whom you didn’t expect. But she seems happy, lying in Stacie’s arms and her legs thrown over Ashley. You’re glad that even when there are some issue with you as the Bellas, you can still go out and enjoy each other’s company. Not as the Bellas. Just as the friends you are.  
  
The night starts off as one of your favorite things ever. You’re surrounded by these amazing girls in a bar, drinks on the table in between you, chatting and laughter filling the space. You love that. You love how easy things are in that moment. After an hour or so, the music gets turned up and it brings everyone to their feet. You could have danced until the sun came up, but the bar closes at four.  
  
You’re all too hungry to go to sleep, so you stop for pizza first. Your drunken screams and exaggerated laughter echoes through the streets and you miss Beca right there and then, not for the first time that night. You think she would have really liked this.  
  
When all the slices are either eaten or fallen to the curb, you say your goodbyes and everyone parts ways, heading to different dorms.  
  
By the time you reach your room, you can barely keep your eyes open. You’re not sure why, but somehow it seems as if Beca’s bed is closer than your own, so you go that way and pass out as soon as your head hits the sheets that smells like the tiny DJ.

* * *

 

* * *

  
Your evening turns out different than planned. You were supposed to go over your mixes again, maybe take a nap. Something along the lines of a calm night in before your big show. You end up telling your roommate you plan to stay in college, at least for a while. Which is weird, because you hadn’t _planned_ that. Yes, you spent all day thinking of ways to make sure she knew you weren’t gonna leave, like unpacking that bag, but now you actually flat out told her. Which means you can’t leave anymore.  
  
(Why doesn’t that scare you as much as it should?)  
  
However, you end up at dinner with the girl and you listen as she tells you about teachers and classes and what’s important to do. That it’s not the same as high school and everyone is super helpful, so you should ask for help a lot. You feel better knowing all this information.  
  
Chloe doesn’t allow you to pay for dinner, which is ridiculous, because you have two jobs and she has none, but you can’t say it surprises you when you end up splitting the bill.  
  
You exit the restaurant and work on instinct. Music just starts to play when the girl takes your hand in hers. You tense up, but you break through your fears that are telling you to push your roommate away and keep her at distance. Both physically and emotionally. She’s come to know you a lot over these last couple of weeks, it’s kind of insane, if you think about it. As if she can read your mind, Chloe’s thumb swipes over your hand and your thoughts to separate disappear.  
  
You focus on the lyrics instead of how fast your heart is beating, because of the girl’s touch, and it works. It works too well, because when you run into Jesse minutes later, you totally forget you’re holding hands until his eyes fall and you can see his smirk growing. He is _so_ gonna be a jerk about this. Especially since he apparently works in the record store, too, now. That’s not the _worst_ thing that could happen. He’s sort of nice and funny and for all you know, Luke could’ve hired some asshole that you despise. And maybe Jesse working there will take some of the load of your back. That sure would be great if you’re gonna seriously do this college thing.  
  
Chloe doesn’t hold your hand anymore after that, and you hope you didn’t offend her. Jesse has already been mocking the fact that you were staring at her and saying you have a ‘total crush’ on her. Now he’s never gonna drop it.

* * *

  
“You mind if I play my set list? I can, you know, hear better if the flows are good if it’s actually echoing in a room.”  
  
“Of course, I’d love to hear, Becs!”  
  
She gets off her bed immediately and moves to yours, as if it was an invitation. You try not to let it show it wasn’t. You just scooch and make room for her.  
  
You hit the button and let the mix play of Sia’s Chandelier, Galantis’ Runaway (U  & I), Maroon 5 with Sugar. This is where you open with and you know it will drive people to the dancefloor. You’re just listening to your recorded mix, but you feel your fingers moving and you know you will have no problem mixing this on stage tonight.  
  
You skip the Fast Car mix you made when Chloe’s not watching, which is easy, because she’s basically staring at you the entire time. You try not to let her get to you, because you have to focus, which would be a heck of a lot easier if she wasn’t so close. Her arm is touching yours and every song she hears that she likes or simply recognizes, she turns to put both her hands on you to shake your body lightly. It’s kind of cute, how she gets so excited that she has to touch you to let you know _how_ excited she is.  
  
The mix you made of Let’s Talk About Sex, Baby plays and Chloe tells you she likes that one, with a wink, of course. You can’t help but smile at how stupid she is. She lays her head on your shoulder and you wonder if she’s sick of looking at your face or if the music is tiring her. Whatever the reason, you’re happy about it, because she’s warm and her hair smells nice.  
  
You don’t play everything on your set list, because there’s simply no time, but you end with the power mix you made of Zedd’s Clarity that’s around eight minutes long and as soon as your roommate realizes that was the last one, she jumps up and tells you how great that was. You’re not sure if it’s _great_ , but it’s good enough for tonight.  
  
“No, it’s great, Becs! It is the best I’ve ever heard!”  
  
“How many more have you heard, though?” You ask mockingly.  
  
“Don’t need to hear any more, I’ve already heard the best.”  
  
You’ve never been good at accepting compliments, _the few you’ve had in your life_ , so you lean your head against the girl’s chest and take a deep breath, letting her know you’re thankful for her words, but you’re also kind of nervous. Chloe wraps her arms around your head and you feel the nerves leaving you. You feel safe in this moment.  
  
“You’re going to do great, Becs.” The girl whispers close to your ear.  
  
You move back from her and mumble an awkward thanks, lips pressed together in a shrugging way. You hope she’s right.

* * *

  
“Look who it is, my upcoming superstar!” Kevin shouts from across the club the moment he sees you’ve entered. “The first female DJ!”  
  
“I doubt I’m the first.” You deadpan, half because it’s the truth, half because your nerves have gotten worse and you don’t want him to know.  
  
“You will be the first woman who’s going to be bigger than freaking Hardwell.”  
  
“Wow, hold on, all I got is a gig at one of the biggest places in Louisiana, I don’t think we’ve earned the right to even mention Hardwell.”  
  
He hands you a drink and you sit down at the bar where he tells you how proud he is of you. He talks about the first time he let you spin and there were only six people in the club, but you got them all to the floor. You remember that. You simply walked in, asked the bartenders who owned the club, walked over until you were close enough for him to hear you and then you started criticizing the DJ. You only got three insults out before Kevin interrupted you and asked if you thought you could do better. Of course you could, the kid had no idea what he was doing in that booth. So you kicked him out and turned Kevin’s club into the greatness it is now.  
  
Well, you can’t take all the credit for it. Kevin did great in his advertisements and the bartenders work their butts off every single night. You all did it. You’re a team and one hell of one, too.  
  
“I should go soon, Kev.” You say before finishing your drink. His words and relaxed state transported onto you and you feel excited and ready to go.  
  
“Cool, let me just tell the guys I’m leaving and we can go.”  
  
“Wait, what? You’re coming with? You can’t, it’s a Saturday night, it’s gonna be crazy in here.”  
  
“I’m not gonna miss the gig that starts off your career, kiddo.”

* * *

  
You’re glad Kevin has come with you, because this club is ten times the size of the one you’re used to. Lights are flickering faster than you can blink, which is probably why they named the club “flashing”. The bar is at least 30 foot long, which is just insane. Twenty bartenders are running from side to side to serve the crowd.  
  
You look around above you to see where the DJ booth is, but Kevin lightly puts his finger on your cheek and pushes your face into the direction of the dancefloor, which is when you see it. The DJ and its gear are placed in the middle of the floor, people surrounding it closely, some are even all over the DJ. He’s shirtless, showing off his six-pack and muscled arms. You’re glad you’re not a dude, because you think they’d make you dress the same.  
  
Kevin puts his hand on your shoulder and it’s only then you realize you were shaking. You don’t know if you can do this. At least you’re safe in a booth, but here in the middle of the crowd, in a club that’s way too big for your tracks, you feel anything but safe.  
  
Sweat breaks out and you count the amount of steps it took you to get here, wondering if you can do them in half if you run this time. They’d probably just let the guy play if, let’s say, you didn’t show up. And the crowd seems to like him, so you wouldn’t really be missed. Maybe the manager even forgot that you were coming tonight.  
  
“Need a drink?” Kevin yells close to your ear as he places his other hand on your other shoulder and guides you towards the bar. You don’t think alcohol will help, but you let him push you through the horde of people.  
  
You were right, the alcohol doesn’t help, but Kevin does. His calm state of mind prevents you from freaking out. And he’s not even doing anything. He keeps quiet on the seat next to you, observing the people around you and taking sips from his beer. He’s simply making it impossible for you to be nervous.  
  
In a way, you think of him as a sort of father. He’s only got ten years on you and he dresses way better than your actual dad, but he knows you. Right now, he knows that he should keep quiet, because words are the last thing that would help you. He’s doing the only thing that calms you down and you didn’t even know there was a way. You wonder if it’s somehow become easier for you to let people in, to let people get to know you. Kevin knows you. Now, Chloe is starting to get to know you as well. You can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with these weird people that they wanna get to know you.  
  
Kevin has two more beers and you focus on the music while trying to ignore how many people are in this building. Then it’s time to meet the manager. He’s a nice man, around Kevin’s age, you reckon. You let the two of them chat for a few minutes and then you excuse yourself to grab your equipment.  
  
The nerves are starting to crawl back into your system like they always do moments before you do something that you’ve never done before. But excitement to finally get behind that table is bigger than your anxiety.  
  
You don’t feel like going back to join the conversation between Kevin and the club manager, so you walk onto the dancefloor twenty minutes before you’re supposed to start, dodging people’s limbs and the drinks they hold, your suitcases held in a tight grip within each fist. It’s still crowded around the shirtless guy, but it’s easier than you thought it would be to get through and reach him. You know he can’t hear you anyway, so you start to unpack and put your blue headphones on. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t meet them until you’ve got all your equipment ready.  
  
He just looks at you. Something along the lines of pleasure and arrogance dripping off his face, the right side of his mouth slightly lifted and his eyebrow above it furrowed. He pushes his headphones off of his head and leans closer. You can feel his hand reaching up to your face to position one side of your gear just behind your ear. “You’re early, Princess.” He tells you with his lips brushing over your skin.  
  
“It’s Beca.” You tell him as you reposition your headphone over your ear. He moves back, smile even bigger now, eyes studying your face for a second before they move up to where you assume his boss and yours must be. He shrugs before meeting you again, nodding acceptingly as he wets his lips and you know that he wants to tell you something again as he leans in.  
  
“Let’s see what you got.”  
  
He moves fast then, pushing his headphones back on and his hands moving over the pads and buttons of the equipment in front of him. You know what he’s doing. He’s mixing a song to see if you can find one that flows perfectly into this one. You open your laptop fast, connecting wires while scanning your set list, quickly playing half a second of each song in your head to determine if it fits or not. You come across one or two that might work, but you need something to wipe this guy’s smile off of his face. You find the perfect song and check the guy’s monitor on the controller and see the song is nearing the end. You examine his digital controller. It has four decks, two lighted jog wheels that seem brand new, multicolored performance pads, special buttons for loops and slices, screens that show soundwaves and bass. It's definitely a better tool than what you have.  
  
You notice the shirtless guy besides you is smiling broadly, probably aware that you’ve been staring. You check his monitor and see there’s still at least twenty seconds of this song left, but you don’t have that long to watch his face fall.  
  
In one movement, you push him to the side and crush his song on his controller while swiping your index finger over your own jog wheel, starting your song. Rihanna’s voice echoes around the room with the beat from Sexy And I Know It underneath it, pumping through the building. You raise your arms and face the previous DJ. Now you’re the one who gets to shrug and smile.  
  
He doesn’t seem defeated, though. His arrogance is still present, his lips are still curled, but he’s looking at you like he’s not even surprised. He takes off his imaginary hat before disappearing into the crowd. You wonder if he’ll make it out alive.  
  
You tell yourself you’ve been too busy working the controller to even acknowledge that there are people around you, but the truth is that you’re too scared to look up and see that everyone’s left. You’re in the middle of building up the courage to send a glare at the dancefloor when you feel two hands on your shoulders.  
  
You tense up. Of course you do. But you recognize the man’s smell and the format of his big hands on your rather tiny body. He brings one of his hands underneath your chin and softly lifts your head up, the way he did earlier when he guided your attention to where the DJ was placed. Gentle.  
  
You brace yourself for the worst before your eyes scan over the floor in front of you. Everyone is still there. Maybe more, maybe less. But definitely more than you’ve ever had during a gig. You quickly loop the beat and turn to face Kevin. He’s behind you, jumping up and down and making silly faces, arms swinging greatly besides him. You can’t help but smile and sigh before throwing your right hand in the air and jumping to your own beat.  
  
Kevin nods and you nod back at him, silently thanking him for this.

* * *

  
People seemed to like your music. You were pretty nervous about singing your Fast Car mix in front of all these people, but it actually went great. You’re nearing the end of your set right now, but the club is still filled with people. You usually only play for two heavily intoxicated people when it’s after seven a.m., but apparently it’s normal for people to stay in Flashin’ even after the sun has come up.  
  
You almost don’t recognize the guy in a shirt when he comes up to you and hits the standard playlist, but it’s the dark eyes and annoying grin that reminds you who he is.  
  
“You did quite okay, Princess. Better than the other rookies we get every time Rodney calls in sick with another STD.”  
  
“Thanks.” You say, unsure of what he’s even talking about. “You were pretty good yourself, DJ Dax.” You smile insulting.  
  
He laughs loudly. You’re not sure if he’s sarcastic or not. “Yeah, my name is Daniel. Not much you can do with that.”  
  
“And you thought Dax was a good choice?”  
  
You both start to unplug your equipment and head to the bar when everything’s back in their suitcases. Kevin and a few bartenders join you and you talk about music and clubs for a good hour. You’re surprised they don’t close yet. Daniel tells you that as long as there are people on the dancefloor, they won’t close. You spot at least twenty people still dancing and six seem to have passed out, lying faced to the floor.  
  
You leave the club with Kevin shortly after eight. He compliments you on the night and you tell him all the funny things you saw, like people falling or the weird dance movements you spotted. He drops you off in front of your dorm and you don’t think you were prepared for the cold wind that hits your face when you get out the car.  
  
The building is as quiet as you’d expect a college dorm to be on a Sunday morning. There’s a strong scent of vomit when you pass the joined living room, which doesn’t surprise you. You’re just glad that the smell is gone when you reach your door.  
  
You find another surprise, though. A passed out ginger girl lying on your bed, her feet on your pillow and her head where your bag was placed only 24 hours ago. You can’t say you hate the view. You change your sweaty clothes for clean PJ’s, or as clean as clothes can be after five days, and you sit on the floor, back against Chloe’s bedframe and your eyes staring at the sleeping creature for as long as you can keep them open.

* * *

  
You startle awake in a rather uncomfortable position and it takes you more than a few seconds to realize it’s actually happening. You’re off the ground, apparently. Chloe’s arms are underneath your thighs and neck, her face close above you. You wonder what the hell is going on and why she's holding you like a baby.  
  
“Morning, Becs. I figured you’d want your bed back. You were lying on the floor.”  
  
“How are you this strong?” You mumble as she places your body on your bed without any seeming effort. You take a seating position as she stays kneeled down next to you on the floor.  
  
“How was it? I want to know everything!”  
  
“Well, I was able to make out which bed in the room was mine, which happened to be occupied, so I’d say less fun than your night.”  
  
She laughs and you feel your insides shifting. After all this time, you must have seen her laugh at least twice in a minute, you’re still not used to it. Not used to how pretty she is, not used to being able to make her laugh, not used to how it makes you feel.  
  
She recaps her night for you and then she expects you to do the same, except she doesn’t accept just the highlights. You tell her then about how big the club was, how Kevin managed to calm you down without really doing anything, how shirtless Daniel put you to the test, how people danced to your music, how people enjoyed your music. She asked you which songs they seemed to like best, and there’s only one that really stands out, maybe just for you.  
  
“Oh, well, there’s this one song I did, where I kind of.. I kind of sang the lyrics while I mixed.”  
  
“Beca!” The girl jumps up from the floor and somehow ends up on your bed straddling your thighs, her face lighting up from glee as her hands find yours and squeeze you in excitement. “You sung?! You mixed a song and you sung at the same time?! What song was it? Do I know it? Is it that one song that I liked?”  
  
“No, no.” You smile and try to get her to calm down. “You haven’t heard it yet.” Of course this only makes the girl more eager.  
  
“You have to let me hear! Do you have it on your laptop or did you just do it spontaneous? I’m sure you can do it again, right? I’ll go get your-”  
  
You’re not sure what makes you lean forward and kiss Chloe Beale. Maybe because she was on top of you, straddling your legs, talking so much you wanted her to shut up. Or maybe you’ve been wanting to do it for a while. Ever since you woke up and saw her stupid face, probably.  
  
She smiles against your lips and she giggles when you switch positions. She laughs when you kiss her stomach at that one place where she’s ticklish and she moans your name when you push in another finger.  
  
All of those are some of your favorite sounds Chloe’s mouth could produce.  
  
You also like it when she sings, or hums, or whispers, or simply talks. But you definitely like her moans best.

* * *

  
You could’ve spent the entire day in bed, but Chloe drags you out, because “there’s Bellas practice”. Whatever.  
  
When you get there, everyone seems rather cheerful, but as soon as you actually start the practice, it’s back to military school. Orders are yelled and Aubrey doesn’t accept any resistance, pee breaks or advice on improvement. It’s really not even your fault that you get into another argument with the blonde girl.  
  
(It probably is, though.)  
  
“All I’m saying is, why can’t we change just one song? You do these old timers every year and you don’t even win with them, I mean come on. If it was like a guarantee you’d win with The Sign or-“  
  
“Beca, we did lose last year, but that has nothing to do with the song!”  
  
“Right, okay, you vomited on stage. I still don’t think that was the deal breaker. Everyone was asleep long before that.”  
  
“No one was asleep! We perform and entertain, Beca. We are The Barden Bellas and we only do songs made famous by women.”  
  
“There are plenty of songs in this century that are made famous by women!”  
  
“That’s the end of it, Beca.”  
  
She really gets under your skin and you can practically feel your blood pressure rising. You catch Chloe staring at your hands that are probably turned into fists, but she doesn’t do anything. Of course she doesn’t. No one in the group does anything, but Chloe’s supposed to be the co-leader. She’s supposed to do something.  
  
“Anyone else who wants to get something off of their chest?” Aubrey asks, knowing damn well that no one will step forward. You keep your eyes on Chloe who refuses to meet your eye. “Good. Then we can go back to where we left off.”  
  
You try to shake it off and continue this dumb practice, but the fact that Chloe is still letting her best friend dictate this group is pissing you off. You know she’s on your side with this, you know more girls are as well. But everyone’s scared to, because not even Aubrey’s best friend is willing to stand up to her, so of course they don’t dare to, either.  
  
The group is pulled together and Chloe reminds you all that there’s some sort of “riff-off” coming up before you’re dismissed. You don’t even dare to ask what that’s about. It sounds lame enough. Probably another show on campus where you’ll be laughed at by a few dozen students.  
  
You head out and don’t wait for your roommate this time. You’re not gonna fight with her, because this isn’t your problem. If she refuses to get her own opinion and she wants to hide in her best friend’s shadow all her life, that’s up to her. This weekend has made you blinded to what you really are, between talking about your classes in a damn Starbucks to having dinner and unpacking your bags to her carrying you to bed, you have lost sight on things.  
  
You’re not friends, so you’re not in any position to tell her what to do. And you don’t even care. If this is what she wants, then it’s whatever. She can play puppet all her life, you don’t care. You’re not even mad or surprised about it. You knew she wouldn’t have your back. Which is just hilarious, because she’s been pushing you to change so much. You can’t drop out of school, because you wouldn’t be good enough. You’d _just_ be a DJ your whole life.  
  
Whatever.  
  
You head to the record store to clear your mind, repeating to yourself that this isn’t even your fight. Aubrey should do whatever she thinks is best, even if it’s obviously wrong. The deal is you do the stupid performances with them, and in return you get to have sex with a roommate who is nothing more than that. Who will never be more than that.  
  
You could never be friends with someone like Chloe. She’s annoying and talkative, like all day. She’s nice to literally everyone she meets. She didn’t seem to like your pizza which is insane, it’s a pizza with chicken on it, how can you trust someone who doesn’t like chicken on pizza? She has no backbone, can’t stand up for herself. Her best friend is literally the Anti-Christ. She doesn’t know who Martin Garrix is. She goes to sleep in your bed when she’s drunk.  
  
And there’s a million more reasons why you will never be friends with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, thanks for everyone always leaving nice messages on here or on Tumblr, I appreciate it so much! If anyone's interested in hearing the mixes, hit me up. Tell me what you want to see more of or just come talk to me about what an idiot Beca is ;) I'm lifeisbechloe on Tumblr! See y'all soon, people!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out." -Tammara Webber
> 
> /

The next week Beca is back to her distant self again. You barely see her and when you do, she’s got her headphones on and wordlessly screaming at you not to talk to her. You’re pretty sure you would’ve said something about it first thing on Monday afternoon, had you not spotted her holding folders and college books in her arms and pressed to her chest the minute she entered your joined room, had she not stayed every night that week in the room, not necessarily sleeping, but with her laptop on her lap placed on the floor. It wasn’t exactly perfect, but you slept better at night knowing Beca was in the room, and you awoke with a smile each morning when you saw her drooling and snoring.  
  
You gave Beca the space she requested. You were busy yourself anyway. In between your normal classes and the ever building tension filled Bellas’ practices, you found yourself going to the art section more than you intended. You were glad to find that the building doesn’t close until around midnight, because after a full day of classes and settling arguments with the Bellas, you were more than happy to still have plenty of time to spend in the art section of college. There weren’t any classes that late, but there were other students that you could talk to and Hannah in particular was one of the few people who would always be around after dinner time.  
  
Hannah was nice to have around. She could hold a conversation when she felt you were up for it, but kept quiet when your responses lingered. You can appreciate that. During the course of the week, you started bringing dinner for two into the room and she brought wine without discussing it. She talked about her parents at times and you shared some of it right back, although it wasn’t nearly as interesting as her stories. Instead, you’ve tried to keep the conversation light; discussing college and hobbies, like the Bellas. And Hannah didn’t stray outside those lines, which you appreciate.  
  
On Friday evening, you enter the building for the fifth time that week, this time holding two pizza boxes and a deck of cards, hoping to either find inspiration in them for your new assignment or just as a distraction when you and Hannah get bored.  
  
To your surprise, Hannah is not the only one in the class. There’s a guy in the back keeping to himself and Paul, the middle-aged professor, is talking to your auburn haired friend about her newest painting.  
  
“Hi, Paul!” You exclaim happily as you enter the room. “Care to join us?”  
  
He stays and it’s nice to hear him talk about his role models and the different influences while the three of you eat dinner. You had asked the shy guy in the back of the room if he wanted some, but he just looked at you, then stuttered a quick declination of your offer and skipped out of the room.  
  
You play some poker after dinner, but your head isn’t really in the game. You keep thinking about Beca. You’re proud she actually went to the appointment with the Dean and that she’s going to her classes, _finally_. You just figured you’d see her a bit more. And even though she’s around more than she used to, even if it doesn’t feel like it, you foolishly have to admit you miss her.  
  
You miss her as a friend. You haven’t really talked in days and she hasn’t accepted your offers to get coffee, which you have asked her almost every morning this week. You miss her sighs and roll of the eyes whenever you flirt with her. You miss listening to her music, or just her in general. You miss those things the most, more than that part of the deal that you made. But you’re pretty sure you can’t tell Beca those things, since she was clear about what kind of thing this is between the two of you.  
  
(You are still not sure how to define it, though.)  
  
You should however be allowed to tell her you miss her in a physical way, although that’s not really something you should use words for. When you got home around midnight on Wednesday and saw her sitting at the small desk, head bent over some books and her blue headphones on, preventing her from hearing your feet approaching, you decided to inform her without words. You couldn’t deal with Beca ignoring you anymore, so you made your way over, careful not to let your hair touch her when you moved your head down. You wanted your mouth to be the first thing she feels and notices about your presence.  
  
And it was.  
  
It felt great to finally feel Beca again. The soft patch of her earlobe between your teeth, her beating skin underneath your lips, more than anything you’ve missed the way her body tenses completely at your first touch, but totally relaxes after that. The sigh that always comes from deep down Beca’s throat.  
  
You lifted her jaw softly to reach the bottom of her neck better, but Beca moved away from you then. _“I’m on my period.”_ She explained while turning in the chair to face you, but you didn’t even care. You just wanted to be close to her, so you awkwardly positioned yourself on the crappy chair on top of Beca and you kissed her lips.  
  
She had let you for a little while. Lips moving against each other, occasionally allowing you to suck on her bottom lip before quickly going back to kiss her, not wanting her to have the time to stop this.  
  
But it was useless, because Beca pulled away as soon as you tried to deepen the kiss. It was worth it, though, to be pushed away and ignored again shortly after, for a kiss like that.  
  
“Chlo?”  
  
Hannah’s hands are shaking you lightly and it’s disappointing to say the least, right after the remembrance of Beca’s hands on you, you’re not sure anyone’s would be anything but disappointing after that.  
  
“If you’re gonna be a million miles away, we’re gonna see that as folding.” Paul joked and you have to look down at the cards in your hand to remind yourself you were in the middle of a poker game and not in your room with Beca’s body underneath you on some cheap chair.  
  
You play a few more rounds before heading out and leaving Paul and Hannah to the game themselves. You make your way across campus, sure of where you’re going, not sure of what to do when you get there. There’s many things that are plausible to happen when you get to the room where Beca is.  
  
You could start rambling about how you don’t believe this is just a physical thing. Not that you like her, oh no. You definitely don’t _like_ Beca Mitchell. She interests you. Keeps your mind occupied at almost every hour of the day. You wonder what she’s doing, what class she has while you’re at English Lit, what she’s having for dinner when you’re not in the room, what songs she’s mixing right before you fall asleep. You think of her a lot, sure. But you don’t like her. You just want to be her friend; want to know what she’s doing and thinking during her days and what makes a day good or bad for her.  
  
It’s kind of like you’re friend with benefits, but without the friendship part.  
  
(This option is probably the most likely one, because, see, you’re already rambling.)  
  
What’s also a possible scenario is that you flirt with Beca until she gives in and lets you touch her for a little bit. Maybe she’ll let you kiss her for a few minutes like last Wednesday, even though you know she’ll cut you off at some point.  
  
Or maybe you won’t say anything as you walk through the door, finding Beca with her headphones on once again and unbothered by your presence, also once again. It hurts, but you don’t let it show. Somehow, it matters what Beca thinks of you and you don’t want her to think you’re weak. If she can play the cool card, then so can you.  
  
Turns out you can’t, even though you’ve only been in this room for around twenty minutes. You’re up on your feet before you can assess whether or not this is a good plan. Beca’s eyes fly open and her body tenses completely when you take a seat on her bed and rest your hand on her arm. You really should have thought this through some more, because you don’t even know what to say.  
  
So you smile at her grandly and wait until she loses her headphones with sighs of annoyance. You watch how smoothly they fall from her head to around her neck and then you watch her lips as she snaps at you. “I thought we could have some girl talk.” You reply with a smile that you know will cause Beca to roll her eyes.  
  
She does.  
  
“Why? Is there a cute boy in your art class that you’ve been passing notes with?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“What?”  
  
You laugh. “No.” That wasn’t the kind of girl talk you meant. “I just thought we could hang out. Maybe get something to drink.”  
  
“I can’t, I’m busy.” She answers cold as her eyes go back to the screen on her lap.  
  
“Really?” You try to sound tempting, but when Beca looks up from her screen and just glares at you, you’re not sure it worked. You shrug and head to your own bed, placed against the wall and not looking at Beca anymore.  
  
“What?” She asks annoyed, but your smile only grows wider when you see her putting her laptop next to her and trying to make eye contact with you.  
  
“Nothing. It’s just funny.” You shrug nonchalant.  
  
“What is?”  
  
“The fact that you’re supposedly a cool DJ and yet you’re staying in on a Friday night.” You let your eyes find hers then, only to see she’s glaring at you again, yet there’s not a hint of annoyance or anger to find. She scoffs at you and you could not be any more amused.  
  
“Well, I don’t know any cool DJs who go to Starbucks on a Friday.”  
  
“I never said Starbucks, Becs.”  
  
She scans your face, trying to figure out what you’re saying. You see the shift in her eyes the moment she figures it out. “Kevin said I could only get in on Saturdays.” She speaks slowly and doubtful.  
  
“As a DJ, sure.” You smirk devilish. You know Beca told Kevin she was going to focus more on school and he immediately banned her from the club on schooldays and only lets her DJ on Saturdays. You wonder if he was so strict, because he wants the best for Beca, or because he knows Beca couldn’t possibly propose this deal on her own and at least this way she could roll her eyes and act like this isn’t exactly what she thinks needs to happen, too.  
  
Perhaps it’s both.  
  
“Beale, what are you saying?”  
  
“Not sure.” You say playfully. “But I feel like going out.”

* * *

  
Somehow, you ended up walking to a club with Beca. You’re not entirely sure how you pulled that off, but you don’t care. Passing by the line at the entrance to follow Beca into the staff entry creates a fire in your chest and you can’t stop smiling from excitement. Every person that passes the two of you greets Beca enthusiastic and you’re not surprised she barely notices their existence.  
  
(It sure is a relief to know she doesn’t just do that to you. )  
  
You ignore Beca’s attitude and greet every person with even more joy in your voice than usual. Some shake your hand and others try to engage in a conversation, but your grumpy friend doesn’t wait up for you, so you’re forced into short exchange of words.  
  
You hop gracefully and happily after Beca and find her talking to a man in his early thirties. He looks professional, but his scruffy beard and band shirt that’s hidden perfectly underneath his jacket give him away. You knew this was Kevin before you even heard him talk.  
  
“-and if I hear you’re failing even one class, you’re in trouble.”  
  
“Whatever, _dad_!” Beca scoffs, but you hear the glee in her voice nonetheless.  
  
“You must be Kevin!” You exclaim as you’re within their reach. He shakes your hand and you’re glad to see him return your smile.  
  
“And you must be the girl who’s responsible for bringing this little rat back into my club.” Kevin pulls Beca close and they fake wrestle for a bit, until your roommate twists his arm and he taps off.  
  
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I promise, I’ll keep her on the dancefloor.” The wink directed at Beca comes almost as natural as your smirk. You keep your eyes on her until you see her cheeks fluster which is when you decide to let her breathe.  
  
“Well, it was nice to meet you.” Kevin tells you. “Drinks are on the house for you. Beca, I know how much you make, you can just pay for them.”  
  
Beca scoffs shockingly, trying to come up with some sort of retort, but Kevin is gone before she could find something. “Disadvantage of him being my boss.” Beca explains as she heads through a door and the music starts becoming hearable. It’s not until she opens another door that the beats vibrate through your body and take over. The dancefloor is bigger than you thought it would be, groups of people filling the space. You search for the DJ booth and find it up high. There’s a young man standing there right now, but it’s so easy to imagine Beca in there, with her headphones on and doing what she does best.  
  
“Keep up, Beale.” Beca yells at you and takes your hand roughly in hers. You follow her through the crowd and purposely press your body against her whenever you can. Beca looks back with a small grin, and to you that’s an invitation to place your other hand on her hip, keeping her even closer to you than before.  
  
“Am I keeping up alright?” You whisper in her ear and you feel her shiver underneath your touch. You wish the dancefloor was bigger, because you’ve already reached the bar before Beca could reply, even though you doubt she would.  
  
You take a seat next to your friend and watch as she engages in a conversation with the bartender. He’s older than Beca, maybe around your age, eyes as green as you’ve never seen, blond hair big and up and quite frankly it looks perfect. They both turn to you, silently asking what you want to drink, and you just say you’ll have the same as Beca, even though you didn’t even hear what she ordered.  
  
You’re not surprised when the gentleman comes back with two beers.  
  
You keep quiet for a while and listen to the music, taking in the setting of the place. The beats might be going fast, but it’s relaxing in a way, to listen to this with Beca besides you with a beer in hand. She seems to enjoy herself as well. Her head is slightly moving along to the music and she looks calm. Content.  
  
There’s two new beers ready by the time you’ve both finished yours and Beca makes eye contact with you. It takes a few seconds, but eventually her lips start to curl and she’s smiling at you.  
  
“So, what do you want to do? We could play Never Have I Ever?” You tease, leaning closely towards your friend, letting your chest make contact with her on purpose, obviously.  
  
Beca rolls her eyes before glaring at you. “We are not playing that.”  
  
“Twenty Questions?” You ask with a grin.  
  
“No, those are all just new games to get me to talk.” Beca says chuckling and you can’t help but laugh. It’s not like she’s wrong about your intentions.  
  
“Fine, what do you want to do if you don’t want to talk?” You whisper in her ear, your lips brushing over her skin, before returning to your drink and watching Beca lick her lips as her eyes scan over your body.  
  
“We could dance?”  
  
You follow Beca into the crowd. This time you’re the one who reaches out for her hand to hold, because it’s crowded and you don’t want to lose her and it’s totally a great excuse to hold her hand.  
  
When Beca stops, you have to look around to wonder why she choose this place. As if she can tell what you were thinking, she explains the place you’re standing right now is the place where the music gets heard best, because of the audio equipment that’s installed everywhere in the club. You don’t ask any questions, because you don’t want Beca to lose her voice due to all the screaming, trying to make herself clear while there’s music blasting.  
  
Instead, you start dancing. Your hips always seem to lead what you’re doing, and you’re happy to let them. Your arms follow, roaming through the air that’s mentally claimed as yours and your fingers run through your hair every now and then, feeling more free somehow.  
  
Your movements change every few seconds, yet your eyes stay glued to Beca. The girl is moving smoothly and steady. Her dancing is actually quite good, if you ignore the fact that she’s not moving her hips at all and her feet are only limiting themselves to the invisible circle around her. Moving forward, back, sideways. Never more than one step.  
  
But it’s fascinating. Her shoulders and arms are fascinating you, the way they move in front of her torso, the way they look like music’s flowing through them. And her hands are an art in their own. They’re sliding through the space between the two of you, moving slowly to the beat, as if she’s setting a pace. When the beats go faster, her fingers start a life on their own, moving apart from one another, spread and trembling, they somehow still follow the music.  
  
Dancing with Beca is fun. She makes funny faces when she lip syncs to the songs and you’re pretty sure you’re getting a six-pack from all the laughing. You, in return, make her laugh by reenacting her funny hand dance moves. She punches your shoulder lightly, but this act caused her to be a lot closer to you now, so you don’t complain. You’re not sure if Beca hasn’t noticed how close you now are, or if she just doesn’t care. Either way, you’re not complaining.  
  
Slowly, with every movement, you close the distance little by little. You’re starting to think Beca just hasn’t noticed yet, but then her hand reaches out, touching the hem of your shirt and the skin that’s exposed below it. Your breath gets caught in your throat, but you quickly swallow, afraid that if Beca notices, she’ll back away.  
  
She doesn’t. She rests her hand on your hip and before you can think things through, you wrap your arms around her neck.  
  
You stay like that for a while, eyes locked on each other as your feet both continue to somewhat move. The music is just as loud, yet somehow you can barely hear it. The beating of your own heart drowns everything else out and when Beca puts her other hand on you as well, you can’t possibly hold yourself back anymore.  
  
You taste the beer she had earlier on her lips and it sends waves of electricity through your body. Her hands move up on your sides and she’s kissing you back just as passionately as you.  
  
You don’t know how many minutes passed with your lips locked on hers, your tongue in her mouth, your hands keeping her close, but you pull away eventually. Beca seems annoyed that you broke up the kiss, the sight of her swollen lips, however, tells you it was time. Her eyes are dark and she’s staring at you. You wonder for a split second if she’s either going to yell at you and walk out, or get your lips back on hers.  
  
She does neither of those, but she grabs you by the wrist and you follow her without questions asked. You know where you’re going.  
  
Beca moves so fast, you’re barely able to process everything she does. Dragging you into the bathroom, locking the door behind you, connecting your lips again after what feels like a much longer time than it probably has been.

* * *

 

* * *

  
Monday is as awful as you expected. You don’t even remember the lecture that stupid Dean of Students gave you about missing class and what not. She has you retaking all the tests you missed in two weeks and she started scolding at you as soon as she saw the slightest of eye rolls about how important this is, or something. You barely listened.  
  
You took the schedule she made for you and picked up your books from some woman at the front desk, then you went to your classes. All boring eight of them. You were bored through every single one of them, but you guess it wasn’t as awful as you expected the classes to be. Most people left you be, probably because of the look on your face. The classes were stupid, but you understood most of it. Overall, it wasn’t the worst. But the entire thing, including now only getting to DJ on Saturday and taking a few weeks off work in the record store, you’re cranky and annoyed to say the least.  
  
Your bad mood only increases during the course of the week. Maybe it has less to do with classes and more with the fact that you’ve barely been able to sleep at night, still used to the schedule where you’re wide awake during those hours, but it’s easier to blame the stupid college duties.  
  
By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re bored out of your mind because of the dull schedule. Every day is just the same, you don’t understand how people do this. Waking up early, going to classes, going home, doing the stupid assignments and trying to fall asleep before three a.m.. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to that, nor do you want to get used to it.  
  
You blame the low number of hours you slept that night when you’re picking a fight with a guy that runs into you on Friday morning. He was all apologies and picking up your books, so you walked away eventually when you were sure that there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to fight you.  
  
Your last class ends quite early that day, so you head to the record store to check up on Luke. He’s in the middle of his show when you enter the building, but he notices you and you stock some CDs while you wait for him to come out of his booth.  
  
“Be-caw!”  
  
_Great._ You throw your head back and wonder if it’s too late to run out the door. When you open your eyes dramatically, you’re not surprised to find Jesse standing awfully close to you.  
  
“What?!” You snap when he just keeps looking at you with a huge smile on his face.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be in here, Miss Alternative.”  
  
“ _Miss Alternative_?”  
  
He just glares at you in response and you have to look down to see what he’s talking about. You’re wearing all black and your leather jacket on top. Of course he’s a dick like that. You roll your eyes and head to the other section to check out the new releases.  
  
“Becky!” You’re glad to hear Luke’s voice, because you don’t think Jesse would’ve let you just be. “I thought I told you you’re not welcome here anymore.” He says, smile big and bright, totally contradicting his words. He is **so** happy to see you.  
  
“Relax, I went to all my classes.” You say with your hands in front of your chest to show your surrender. “I come in peace. Wanted to check how awful you guys are doing without me.” You speak playfully.  
  
“Sappy here is not that bad,-”  
  
“It’s Jesse.” The young guy speaks annoyed as if he’s been hearing that nickname all week.  
  
“-but it’s safe to say the store misses you.”  
  
“You know I can handle one or two days a week, just to-“  
  
He cuts you off angrily and you can’t say you didn’t expect him to. He heads back into the booth and you follow him. He asks about classes and you answer, as brief as you can. You stay there in that radio booth for a while, listening to Luke’s show and the music he plays, until Jesse comes in telling Luke he has someone on line one, and you head back into the store to leave him to it.  
  
“Sappy, huh?” You ask Jesse when you grab a box to unpack and stock. He just shrugs and smiles at you.  
  
“Oh, I totally forgot! How’d your gig go?” He asks with more enthusiasm than you’ve probably ever felt in your life.  
  
“Oh, yeah, it was great.” You reply, because it was. It was great. What more could you say about it?  
  
“Yeah? What did your uh,-“ He pauses, obviously looking for words, but with a huge grin that you can practically guess what he’s going to say. “-let’s go with roommate, think of it?”  
  
“Shut up.” You tell him, your eyes focused on him as a warning, but his grin stays all the same and he doesn’t seem intimidated by you. “Besides, she wasn’t there.”  
  
“No? Because you two seemed pretty close.”  
  
“Okay.” You say annoyed, dropping the remaining CDs back into the box and making your way towards the door. “That’s it.”  
  
“Like holding hands, fingers entwined, kind of close.” Jesse chuckles from behind you.  
  
“Shut it!” You tell him before slamming the door closed. God, he’s such a weirdo. Yes, you were holding hands, but he doesn’t have to make it sound like there’s more to it. Because there’s absolutely not.  
  
You cross campus and spot the Starbucks on your right. You stop in your tracks, wondering if you should go in. You blame stupid Sappy for implanting Chloe in your mind, because all you can think of is her. If she’s inside the coffee shop with her best friend. And if she isn’t, if you should get her something to drink for when she gets back home later. You know she loves coffee, and she’s had quite a busy week as well. You’ve barely seen her, now that you think of it. Most mornings, she was up before you were and she hasn’t bothered you a lot when she got home and found you studying.  
  
_Studying_. Mostly you just stared at your books and thought about what mixes you could be working on instead of learning about physics.  
  
A group of girls exit the shop and you get snapped out of your thoughts. You decide to keep moving. Getting coffee is not part of the deal. It would just be another thing Sappy can hold over your head and bother you with.  
  
You continue your way to your dorm when you spot a familiar red head walking down the street, heading straight towards you. You freeze instantly, trying to figure out what the best escape route out of this situation is, but she crosses the street before you can make a move. She’s holding two pizza boxes in her arms as she happily skips the streets with that always smiling mouth of hers. _God_ , she’s so annoying. How can someone be happy as a default like that?  
  
You watch as she heads to the building you recognize all too well, and you don’t wait to see her actually enter, because you don’t think it would benefit your already bad mood.  
  
Of course that’s where Chloe spends her Friday nights. In a fucking art room with Hannah eating pizza’s. Or with whomever she’s bought that second box for. You don’t understand how she can be so oblivious. Your roommate is way too nice, and it will lead to people taking advantage of her.  
  
(In whatever way that might be, you don’t want to think about.)

* * *

  
You’re busy writing an essay, or more so staring at your laptop trying to get it to write itself, when your roommate returns from her dinner date. You check the time on your laptop and you’re quite surprised it isn’t past midnight yet.  
  
She doesn’t try to engage in a stupid conversation with you, to your surprise. She’s just sitting on her bed, and you suddenly have an even harder time focusing on this stupid essay. You don’t know what causes it, but Chloe makes you nervous. Whether it’s the fact that she’s unusually quiet, or if it’s just her presence that’s making you break out in sweat.  
  
You close your eyes, trying to ignore she’s even in the room as music flows through your headphones and you focus on the beats in the song instead of the ones in your chest.  
  
A couple of songs in, you feel your bed shift and find Chloe sitting so close, you have to gulp and pretend to be annoyed to get rid of all this nervousness.  
  
“I thought we could have some girl talk.”  
  
If there’s one thing you don’t do, it’s girl talk. What even is that? It makes you think of a teenage girl who tells her friends all about her crush on this guy she’s never even talked to. You tell yourself that’s why your mind picked those words to leave your mouth, and definitely not because you are still thinking about those two pizza boxes in her hands.  
  
You’re glad Chloe doesn’t see through you. Instead, she’s basically telling you to go to your club tonight. _Your club!_ Kevin said you were only allowed in on Saturdays, but Chloe’s right, he just means as a DJ. You can totally check out how busy it is and who’s working tonight and get some drinks with your roommate, if that’s what it takes.  
  
You quickly get dressed when Chloe tells you to, and you’re out the door not even fifteen minutes later. You could call a cab, but your roommate looks content with walking.  
  
“Did you have an art class today? Or, this week?” You ask when the silence gets unbearable. You know you should’ve brought your earplugs along.  
  
“No, no classes, but I still went there a lot this week, just to work on my stuff.” She explains with a smile. “Oh, and Paul was there today, the professor. So I was able to get some feedback on my painting.”  
  
“Great.” You say, trying to sound as sincere as possible, but somehow you always sound disinterested, even when you’re not.  
  
She’s quiet again after that, probably under the impression that you’re not interested in hearing more, so you act before you can think. “So, uh, the painting,- what is it about or, whatever?” You stumble, trying to forget what an idiot you were earlier for thinking she had a date with Hannah when she was just having dinner with her professor.  
  
“It’s kind of hard to explain.” Chloe decides after staring at you for a few seconds. “You should come over sometimes and take a look.”  
  
You roll your eyes, because why does she have to make everything so hard? “Or you could just tell me what it is.”  
  
“Well, where’s the fun in that?”  
  
That goddamn wink will be the death of you some day. “Fine, whatever.” You say after she’s done chuckling.  
  
“Stop it, don’t be like that, Becs!”  
  
But she's laughing and her eyes shine as bright as ever, so you don’t think you’ll ever stop.

* * *

  
You’ve been to this club many times. You probably couldn’t count them if you tried. Every single one of those times was different, but being here with Chloe is a whole other experience. You should have known it would be from the moment you walked through the staff entry and heard her chatting with every person she saw. This was gonna be a weird night. You can only hope it’ll turn out a good kind of weird.  
  
You find your boss at the end of the hallway and you’re kind of glad your roommate gets to meet Kevin, because he’s just a great guy and you think she’ll like him. Although she probably likes most people she meets.  
  
You needed a drink long before Chloe started flirting with you on the way to the bar, but you definitely need one now. You don’t like to admit it, even if it’s just to yourself, but you’ve missed her touch. Not necessarily in a sexual way, just the simple way her hand rests in yours and how her thumb brushes over your skin.  
  
But you can’t have those thoughts, because that’s not part of the deal, so you ask her to head down to the dancefloor to take your mind off things.  
  
The quite opposite happens as soon as Chloe starts to dance and you can’t see why you thought this would be a good idea. Your head gets cleared, that much is true. But the thoughts you wanted to leave, the thoughts about her touching your skin, only increase with every second you spend watching your roommate move.  
  
You’re lucky your body remembers to move, too, and you can only hope you’re moving somewhat to the beat, because you can’t really tell.  
  
You find out that she’ll laugh if you pull funny faces or do a weird dance move, so you keep those going and you’ve lost track of time and space by the time you finally reach out and touch her. Her skin feels soft underneath your fingertips and her lips are even softer against your own.  
  
You can’t even remember the last time you kissed her, not like this.  
  
If you had to guess, you’d say it was before your mind ruined everything by overthinking. The first kisses you’ve ever shared with her were passionate and exciting, just like this one.  
  
She’s the one to pull away. You wish she hadn’t, but you’re glad now that she has, because you realize that the middle of the dancefloor of the club where you work might not be the best place to jump your roommate's bones.  
  
You don’t remember the staff bathroom being this far away, even though you’re practically running across the floor.  
  
_God, you’re an idiot._  
  
But you’re an idiot who gets to have sex with a gorgeous ginger, so you are like the luckiest idiot in the world.  
  
The noise of the door locking is the most fulfilling sound your hands are able to make. Well, up until the moment your hands find Chloe Beale and then the most fulfilling sounds are produced by her mouth. You have her up against the tiled wall and placed on a sink in no time.  
  
It’s not as awkward as you thought it might be. You, a below average sized person, placed between the legs of someone who’s already a bit taller and right now sitting on a bathroom sink, but you make it work, though. You’re at eye level with her chest, so you don’t really need your lips to be in contact with hers. She’s already having trouble breathing as it is, with your mouth on her chest and her pants down her ankles.  
  
She pulls your head up a few times, however, to kiss you and moan in your mouth. Her fingers move through you hair and dig in your skull to tell you she’s close. She falls apart quickly, but you don’t let her go until she’s collapsing again, your name rolling off of her tongue as she does.  
  
You help her off the sink and don’t release her until she seems steady on her feet, which is when you go to wash your hands and throw some water on your face, needing to cool down in at least some way.  
  
Chloe helps you dry your face and tells you she’s looking forward to return the favor in a few days. You usually don’t mind when it’s your time of the month, but this time you really hate it. She kisses you before you can reply and you instantly forget what words you would even form. Or how to.  
  
You don’t believe you’ve ever been with someone who’s such a good kisser. Her mouth seems innocent and professional at the same time. Teasing and playing you until you deepen the kiss, only to be defeated by her tongue seconds later. It annoys you, would it not be so damn good.  
  
You head to the bar minutes later, eager to get some alcohol in your system and Chloe keeps up surprisingly well, although you can tell the drinks get to her a lot more than they get to you. Drunk Chloe Beale is not much different from sober Chloe; she’s just everything multiplied. Ten times as happy, ten times the laughs, ten times the flirting. The last one is a problem, but she’s adorable and hilarious, so you can easily ignore the innuendos.  
  
It must be after three a.m. when you and your roommate leave the club. She’s hanging over your body and it takes everything in you to keep her up on her feet. You’re too small to carry her home, you know that much. She doesn’t seem wasted, though. Her coordination is just a little fucked and her feet occasionally drag over the streets, but besides that, she seems fine. Intoxicated, yes. Drunk, probably not.  
  
“Becs, I had such a great time tonight.” She tells you, exaggerating almost every word of the sentence.  
  
“Me too, Beale.” You tell her honestly, not caring if she remembers your words in the morning or not.  
  
“I have more fun with you than with anyone!”  
  
The words should probably remind you of the sex in that cold bathroom, but it doesn’t. It brings you back to that dancefloor with her arms wrapped around your neck and the two of you slow dancing to whatever house song was on. “Yeah.” You realize. “I do, too.”  
  
“Friends?” She asks, her hand reached out in a formal way, her smirk big enough to know she’s not in a state to actually be serious.  
  
You don’t really like the word ‘friend’. You’ve never had a lot, especially not a lot of girls. You mostly get along better with guys, but even those you don’t really call your friends. I mean, now that you’re thinking about it, it’s kind of stupid. What else would you call Kevin? And Luke? You don’t think anyone else could fit the list, but you also don’t think Chloe could not be on that list. You’re pretty sure it’s all the alcohol and sex and flirting, because if you were rational right now, you’d be able to see you could never be her friend and that friendship wasn’t part of the deal. But with Chloe’s bright, blue eyes on you, her smile even prettier in the night sky, you just can’t help yourself.  
  
“Friends.” You lie.  
  
  
Or maybe you’re telling the truth for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again, people! I'm trying to get back into a regular updating schedule again, so thanks for sticking with me here! As usual, let me know what you liked and want to see more of!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "‘Isn’t it exhausting?’  
> ‘What?’  
> 'Keeping people out.’" -K.A. Tucker
> 
> /

You don’t have to open your eyes to feel the ache starting to build in your head and your broken set of lips begging for some water. You don’t really feel like getting up or moving in general, but now that you’re conscious enough to feel your body and the damage you’ve done to it last night, you know staying in bed is no longer an option.  
  
You push your body into a sitting position with all the strength you have inside. Your eyelids don’t comply, but you get them to open eventually. The room is still mostly dark, but it’s hurting you nonetheless, keeping your eyes as small and protected as possible. You take a deep breath to get ready and get out of bed. You move your legs first, pulling them up to your chest to kick the blankets off of you. It’s cold and you wish you could move your body back under the warmness you just freed yourself from, but the need for water is bigger and growing by the second.  
  
You twitch and turn for a little until you finally move one foot out of bed. It doesn’t get much distance, doesn’t even reach the ground. There’s a hand firmly wrapped around your ankle and you’re not surprised you can tell who is touching you by just the feeling of her skin on yours.  
  
You direct your eyes towards where Beca must be and you have to work hard to get them into focus. “Beca?” You whisper as the room becomes clear and you can see her dark features as she’s kneeled down on the floor besides your bed with one hand stopping your foot from touching the ground. You spot a coffee mug and a water bottle just underneath where your foot was about to land.  
  
It seems Beca noticed that you have noticed why she was there, because she releases her hand from your ankle and you place it on the floor besides the drinks.  
  
“I only just put those there, don’t ruin it.” She mumbles as she heads back to her side of the room.  
  
“Thanks.” You say, trying not to sound as touched by this gesture as you actually are. You bring the water bottle to your mouth and don’t stop until every last drop has gone through your dry throat. You put the empty bottle down and fold the semi-hot coffee cup into both your hands. You look up to see Beca smirking at you, her eyebrows slightly raised, but her mouth doesn’t make the comment it wants. “Exactly how much did you let me drink last night?”  
  
“Okay first of all, you didn’t look all that drunk to me. But I can see now it may have been too much.”  
  
“How much?” You groan as the pain in your head grows and Beca laughing at you doesn’t help.  
  
“Alright, let me see. We had two beers each early on in the night. Then later you had some stupid margaritas, a coke with rum and some tequila shots.”  
  
“Tequila.” You say as if you found the perpetrator in a huge crime investigation. You’re already a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and tequila does the most damage, even if you only have one or two.  
  
“I take it you don’t like tequila very much.” Beca chuckles as she takes your now empty coffee mug out from your grip and heads into the small kitchen. You’re too hungover to let your eyes follow her.  
  
“Oh, I love tequila. Tequila just doesn’t love me.” You speak slowly, rubbing at your head as if that would stop the aching.  
  
Beca’s hands are on your shoulders and before you can ask her what she’s doing, you feel yourself getting pushed back into the soft mattress. She tells you to sleep, but you have a feeling you’ve already done too much of that. “What time is it?” You ask, slightly pushing yourself up to keep Beca close.  
  
She sits down on your bed. “I don’t know, like eleven o’clock.”  
  
“Eleven?!” You say too loud, feeling your head throbbing from your own noise. You’re never one to sleep the day away. You think it’s a waste of time.  
  
“Who cares, it’s a Saturday. We got home at like four thirty last night. Pretty sure we did that fifteen minute walk home in over an hour.” Beca smiles and your lips smile back at her without your order. She busies her hands with placing the blankets back over you.  
  
“Well you’ve been drinking, too. Maybe you should stay in bed as well.” You place your hand on hers, letting her know you don’t mean she should do that in her own bed.  
  
Beca snorts and pushes you back into the mattress. “No.” She says as she covers your body with the sheets and heads back to her own side where her laptop is waiting for her.  
  
“I hate that you have a high tolerance.” You say annoyed and turn so that you can at least keep your eyes on Beca.  
  
“I don’t have a high tolerance, you just can’t handle alcohol.” Beca says with a hint of a smile on her lips, but it doesn’t get any further. Doesn’t make her lips move or her eyes shine like you’ve seen them do a few times. “Now sleep.” She orders.  
  
“Fine.” You cave. “Oh and, thanks for the coffee, _friend_.”  
  
Beca’s eyes shoot up with anger and annoyance in them. They search you questioning as her jaw stays clenched and tight. “Don’t.” She says, her finger pointed at you and her eyebrows seem to relax again.  
  
You can’t help but giggle into your hands that are holding the warm blankets close. Beca doesn’t say anything after that, so you just watch her as she works away on her laptop. “I think it’s cute you want to be my friend.” You say after minutes of silence.  
  
“I don’t _want_ to be your friend.” She says spiteful and you wish you didn’t feel like you got sucker punched, but you do. You feel sick and you could blame it on the alcohol from last night, but the truth is you know they have nothing on your stomach like Beca’s harsh words have.  
  
You watch how her face softens with the realization. It must’ve shown on your face, the pain her words brought, because every inch of anger that is usually present has fallen from her gorgeous features to show even more gorgeous features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her jaw relaxed like this, her mouth slightly open as she’s probably looking for the right words and her eyes keeping yours locked as if she’s begging you to wait for her.  
  
“I mean, I didn’t say I wanted to be your friend. I just, agreed to.”   
  
Beca has always had trouble with expressing herself. It’s silly of you to feel hurt over something like words. Unprocessed, unfinished thoughts that slipped past her guards. “Relax, Becs.” You say with a wink. “I won’t tell anyone you secretly _do_ have feelings.” You hear her scoff and you fall back asleep with a smile.  


* * *

  
You don’t know how long you’ve been sleeping, but you’re awakened by loud thrusts on the door. “Becs!” You call out, covering your head in between two pillows to shut the noise out. You hope she doesn’t have her headphones on, because you really don’t want to get out of bed. “Becs!”  
  
“I’m getting dressed, you get it!”  
  
“I’m hungover, you get it!”  
  
You both groan as the annoying person knocks on your door another few times. You throw your legs out of the bed and see Beca appearing from out the closet, her jeans halfway through her legs and her struggling to get them on completely as she’s skipping through the room.  
  
“It’s fine, I’m already up.” You tell Beca through yawns.  
  
“Yeah, you don’t look up.” She replies as she fastens the button on her jeans, still leaving her shirtless and in just a black bra as she heads towards the door.  
  
You reach out and softly snap her bra against her back, your fingers trailing over her skin to the dip in her back before getting your hands back to yourself. “And you don’t look dressed.” You tease, following her to the door now that you’re out of bed.  
  
(Definitely not because Beca’s shirtless and you’d follow her and her black bra anywhere.)  
  
She opens the door while looking over her shoulder to smirk at you. It’s that very action that causes you to see the person in front of the door first. It’s a middle-aged man, short hair and an upcoming beard he probably shaved away a day or two ago. He’s wearing a grey suit and a blue stripped tie to match. There’s not really anything that tells you anything about this man, except that his eyes are glued to Beca’s face and there’s a mix of sorrow, regret and uncertainty in those dark eyes you recognize a little too well.  
  
“Beca.” The man breathes out, as if he’s been holding that very breath since the first knock on the door was hearable. “Beca, please.” He begs, and you can’t see your roommate’s face, but it’s probably not very inviting.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Your friend snaps at the man. You can feel heat radiating off of her and not in the good way you’ve come to known so well.  
  
“Beca, I tried calling you so many times.”  
  
Her father. It must be. You immediately back away from the two of them at that realization. Beca tries closing the door, but the man enters and follows her inside.  
  
“Yeah and me ignoring you has been a message.”  
  
You feel like an intruder in your own room. You would leave, would the man not block your only way out. You’re not sure what to do. You are positive Beca can handle herself in this situation, so you’d just want to disappear actually. This isn’t something Beca would want you to know about, let alone be present in the room while she gets in a fight with her father. You can only imagine how awkward things are going to be when the man leaves the room.  
  
“Out of all the places, you choose this place to come and work?” Beca’s words break through your train of thought. You don’t dare to look at her, don’t dare to intrude more than you’re already doing.  
  
“Beca, I’m only gonna be a substitute teacher for a couple of months here, it’s not-“  
  
“A couple of months?!”  
  
You can practically feel Beca’s anger vibrating through the walls of the room and into your own chest, like the bass at a concert. It makes you look up to your friend. She’s standing in the middle of the room, her hands turned into tight fists, her shoulders lifted but it’s her face that scares you. The anger is so real, that her cheeks are turned a shade of red and her jaw stays locked even when she’s speaking.  
  
You’ve never seen her like this.  
  
You’ve always thought you had seen Beca’s angry face. But it’s nothing compared to this. You’re starting to believe she’s never really been angry at you, just annoyed. This; this is her real anger.  
  
Your feet are moving and Beca looks at you in shock when you move to stand by her. “Hi.” You greet the man. He just smiles at you, probably a little confused by this whole situation. “I’m Chloe, I’m Beca’s roommate. Mister Mitchell, I assume?”  
  
The man nods quickly in agreement.  
  
“Great!” You exclaim more enthusiastic than you actually are. You put one hand on Beca’s arm and you’re glad to feel her relax a little under your touch, but the tension is still very much present. “Mister Mitchell, I don’t know what this situation is about, to be honest. All I know is that Beca is not going to be reasonable at this point.” You can hear your roommate scoffing next to you, but she keeps her responses to herself. “How about we let this all sink in and maybe meet up later? Let’s say, coffee at eight?”  
  
You have been able to get the man to move towards the door while you were talking, always with a friendly smile and careful not to invade his personal space.  
  
“I am not getting fucking coffee with him.” Beca groans from behind you.  
  
“See? Not reasonable.” You whisper with a wink as you open the door for Mister Mitchell.  
  
He doesn’t say a lot, but he nods gratefully and then disappears down the hallway. You close the door with a sigh, knowing that as soon as you meet Beca’s eyes, she’s going to snap at you for interfering.  
  
“You know, I could’ve handled that on my own.”  
  
“I didn’t do that for you.” You state with a smile, sensing that Beca’s anger has mostly already started to drain. “I have a major hangover and you two were louder than the music they played in your club last night.”  
  
Beca watches you for a few seconds before chuckling and shaking her head. “You could have at least thrown me a shirt or something.” She complains as she stares down her own torso.  
  
“Now why would I ever do that?” You say with a smirk, taking a step towards your shirtless friend. You’re surprised Beca doesn’t back away when you’re close enough to run your fingers over her abdomen.  
  
She lets you, keeping her eyes on your face as you trail your fingers over her skin. You can feel her hard muscles underneath the soft layer of her stomach. The lower your fingers go, the more Beca shivers. You let your nails scratch over the bottom part of her stomach and you hook your fingers into her pants as casually as you can. You finally get your eyes off of her body and smile grandly when you see that Beca’s eyes are darkened.  
  
She gulps and you don’t miss how she licks her bottom lip before talking to you again. “I don’t care where you put those hands, Beale. I am not going for coffee tonight.”  
  
“Is that a challenge?” You ask seductively, closing the remaining space between you two, pressing your body into the somewhat smaller girl. You watch Beca closely as you move in, until you see her closing her eyes and awaiting your lips with impatience. You don’t give in just yet, instead you open your mouth, lips almost touching as you speak again. “Because I like a challenge.”  
  
Beca’s impatience ruins your flirtation. She’s pressing her mouth onto yours hard, sucking on your bottom lip with her teeth scraping over it. The hot sigh that leaves your mouth sends Beca straight back to your mouth and her tongue almost immediately finds yours. You move your hands to grab at her chest. You’ve been wanting to do that the moment she came bouncing out of the closet with her pants around her knees.  
  
You feel Beca’s hands going over your back and down your sides to grip at your hips. She’s holding herself back. Usually after a few minutes of kissing, she’s already ripping off your clothes and putting her hands wherever she can. But not this time. This time, she’s simply moving her hands over your back as her lips move against yours in their own set rhythm.  
  
You can guess why. Beca’s still on her period and she knows she can’t go too far. She could remove both your clothes, but stopping would only be harder by then.  
  
You allow yourself to enjoy this moment where it’s simple and, for the first time, not progressing into anything more than just second base. It’s bringing you into a peaceful state of mind, one you’ve never felt while being close to Beca and it’s causing your chest to fill with adoration instead of the usual anticipation.  
  
You can’t exactly characterize what is happening inside of you right now. You just know that you like this, standing in the middle of your shared dorm, your arms wrapped around your roommate’s neck and her hands resting on your hips, simply pushing your lips against each other’s. You might like it better than having sex with her, as amazing and mind blowing as that is.  
  
You have had many times in your life where you got to a point and thought, ‘I’d stay in this moment forever if I could’. This one is just another one to the list. And just like the rest of the list with names of people and places you haven’t seen in years, this one comes to an end as well.  
  
Beca’s eyes are already open when you find her. Her pupils are dark and she’s staring at you, her mouth slightly opened to allow air into her lungs, maybe even because she wants to say something, yet she doesn’t. She looks in trance, hypnotized by your eyes that she can’t look away. She’s still pretty close to you, so you unfold your arms from around her neck and run your fingers over the sides of her face, kissing her one more time before convincing yourself it’s enough.  
  
(It’s never enough.)  
  
You leave Beca’s personal space and hop into the kitchen humming, set on getting some coffee now that you’re awake.  
  
“That was not a challenge, by the way.” Beca stumbles adorably, still with one foot in the bubble you just were.  
  
“But if it was, I totally won.” You turn your head to wink at the girl, not missing how she’s not moved one inch. “Coffee?” You ask. She declines, so you grab her a Red Bull, because you’ve noticed she doesn’t drink enough during the days and this drink might be bad for her, at least it’s keeping her from being dehydrated.  
  
“Finally caving and feeding me my addiction does not mean I’m going with you to see my dad.” She states as she finishes the can and then drops to her bed, crushing the empty thing in her hand and tossing it towards the kitchen. Surprisingly, it disappears into the trashcan and she raises her eyebrows proudly, daring you to say anything about it.  
  
“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine.” You state, trying to suppress your smile at Beca’s cuteness. “I’ll just go alone. I’m sure me and your father have a lot to talk about.”  
  
Beca groans and her face turns slightly serious. “Why are you doing this? I barely know the man, so what he comes to work on this college, I don’t care.”  
  
“You don’t care? Three minutes ago you were ready to pack your bags and leave just because he’s going to substitute here.” Beca doesn’t say anything after that, so you head into the closet to change into some sweats. Bellas’ practice is in a bit and you need to run your hangover off. You take your shoes with you into the room and sit on the bed to tie the knots. Beca still hasn’t moved and you don’t want to push her into things, especially since you think things with her dad must be complicated. So you simply move over to her side of the room and kneel next to her bed. “Just think about it. And if you still don’t want to go later, we’ll just stay in.”  
  
She searches your face, but you know there’s nothing to find except sincerity. She nods after a few seconds of staring and your smile grows the second she does. You move to stand again, but you lean in at the same time. Beca’s head moves back and she’s looking at you smug, asking you with just her raised eyebrow what you’re doing. You reply wordlessly by moving your head to the other side, letting your eyes drill into hers. She in return sighs dramatically before moving to meet your lips.  
  
You can still taste the energy drink on her mouth and you try not to dwell into her like you did earlier, because you have things to do. You pull away and jump to your feet, not missing the way your friend is sitting on her bed with an annoyed look on her face, watching you with her jaw clenched as you head out the door.  
  
The hangover has nothing on you after a morning like that, you think to yourself as you happily run across campus.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
As soon as Chloe’s out the door to go for her daily run, even though the idiot is hungover, you realize the biggest idiot here is you. Every fucking time you’re alone, you make this plan to keep her out. To keep her at a distance. And then she’s around and you seem to forget all about any plans.  
  
_God, what has become of you?_  
  
You’re not yelling at her to get out after hearing a rather personal conversation with your dad. You’re fucking kissing her goodbye again. And let’s face it, you are so going to that stupid Starbucks to have coffee with your father and your roommate you sleep with on a quite regular level.  
  
You’re angry. More at yourself than anyone else, because you’re getting too fucking close to this girl and it won’t end well. You don’t do good with people, you never have. You have single-handedly ruined every relationship with a human you’ve ever had. Love interests, friends, family members. Hell, you’re probably also to blame for how things are going with your dad.  
  
You don’t want things to end with Chloe, but you know they will. And when they do, you wonder if you’ll care as less as every single person you let in before her. Deep down, you know you’ve never had a connection with someone the way you have with the ginger. She has accepted you for the way you are, whispering in your ear she likes your tattoos and piercings instead of asking why you have them. You were the one who said you didn’t want to be a DJ your whole life, because she never asked. She was fine,- more than fine, with you being a DJ for the rest of your life. And she has suggested things, -trying to occasionally drink something besides energy drinks, trying to see if college is your thing, trying to think about things with your dad and if you want to talk to him- but she’s never forced you to do anything.  
  
Instead, she’s handing you Red Bulls, because she seems to know you won’t drink any of her coffee. Instead of asking what is up with you and your dad, she’s kissing you long and slowly, until you’ve forgotten all about the man. Instead of using her questions to get you to open up, you seem to be doing that all on your own.  
  
This is not going to end well.  
  
You fuck things up, that’s what you do. And you curse yourself, because you really don’t want to fuck up Chloe Beale.  
  
You decide a shower is a good idea and change into sweats after. You can’t find your DJ shirt, but you have no time to look for it since the practice starts in ten minutes. You try to run all the way, but you have to stop three times to catch your breath and walk for a bit. You should really take Aubrey’s note to work out in your own time a little more serious.  
  
You arrive at the gym and spot your new ‘friend’ on the other side of the room, talking to Aubrey. _Friend_. You’re not quite used to that yet, but you can make it work. It’s just a label, and it seems that Chloe really wants to be friends, so whatever. You wouldn’t know what else to label your current situation, so friendship will do. You won’t be any different. You’re not suddenly going to spill everything that’s ever happened to you, just because you call her a _friend_ now.  
  
You’re not even sure what friends do. It’s probably not the things you two do.  
  
Just when you start to think this whole friendship thing is idiotic, Chloe’s eyes find yours from across the room and you’re reminded how her face fell when you clumsily told her you didn’t want to be her friend this morning. You don’t ever want her to look like that again.  
  
It’s quite dumb how every worry you have about the two of you seems to shrink when she’s looking at you. _Whatever, you will do this friend thing_.  
  
“Hey eyeline-monster.”  
  
You have to hurt your neck in order to be able to get a glimpse of the girl’s face. She’s already incredible tall, it doesn’t help at all that she’s standing so goddamn close. “Stacie, what’s up?” You ask as casually as possible with the girl’s boobs practically in your face.  
  
Instead of answering your question, she just looks at you with a huge grin which almost makes you blush. You don’t know why. She’s a lot like Chloe, you realize. Gorgeous, confident, not afraid to make someone uncomfortable, apparently.  
  
The tall creature pulls you into her side and keeps you close with one arm around you as she crosses the floor. You ask her what’s going on, but she tells you there’s nothing to worry about. You find Chloe’s eyes again, closer this time, and she’s smiling surprised at your contact with another human being. You shrug uncomfortably, also surprised and a little anxious about the situation you’re in.  
  
Suddenly the girl pulls to a stop and rests her hands on your shoulders. “Beca, what do you think of Chloe’s outfit today? Doesn’t she look absolutely stunning?”  
  
You’re not aware of what is happening, but all the girls have surrounded you now and you’re forced to turn your eyes to your roommate. She looks great, but she always does. You don’t know what funny thing you should notice about her, because the girls are all chuckling and giggling. “I guess.” You answer awkward.  
  
“Hey, sexy ginger!” Stacie yells out and Chloe turns confidently and playful.  
  
You scan her again. Her hair looks perfect, there’s some drops of sweat on her face you can make out, letting you to believe she’s had a good run. Her smile is bright and intoxicating, you have to blink extra hard to get your eyes to move off of those  baby blues. Her clothes look fine as well. You love those grey sweats on her, and her shirt-  
  
_Oh shit._  
  
Your eyes drift over the cloth. The blue handprint that’s on it. _No requests._ The words underneath it. _I’m a DJ not a jukebox_. Guess you found your shirt.  
  
“What’s up, Stace?” Chloe is suddenly so much closer, squeezing herself in between the two of you, resting her arms around either one of you. “Good to see you’re starting to get closer.” Chloe says, eying both you and Stacie with a devious grin.  
  
“Yeah, seems they’re not the only one.” Jessica says and the group bursts out in laughter.  
  
You try to glare at everyone angrily enough to make them stop, but the girls barely notice you. You look up at the girl next to you and she looks innocent and confused, so you shake your head and shrug, hoping the group will leave it to rest.  
  
“What’s going on here?” Aubrey interrupts the group’s laughter and you’re not surprised her angry eyes turn to you first.  
  
You quickly raise your arms in defense. “Not me, Coach.” You state. You know the girls won’t spill, so you anxiously follow her eyes. They stay angry until the moment you see her noticing Chloe’s shirt. Then they grow and her entire face falls.  
  
“Chloe, _what_ are you _wearing_?”  
  
“Oh.” Chloe says when she finds out what all the fuzz was about. You watch your roommate shrug as she finds out what shirt it is, and more importantly, who’s shirt it is. “Beca’s shirt.” She says as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
  
You gulp under her words and it’s the loudest thing in the room, now that Chloe’s words have shut the group up. The silence gets to a point where it’s no longer bearable, and you have no choice but to do the explaining, since Beale makes no attempt to.  
  
“We’re roommates, clothes get mixed up, so what?” You say angry and nonchalant, moving away from the group to lose your jacket and get this stupid practice going.  
  
“How do you even fit in that, Red?” Fat Amy wonders and you watch Chloe shrug out of the corners of your eyes. Usually she’s all talk, and she’s choosing this moment to shrug and stay quiet. _What an asshole_.  
  
“Yeah, the eyeline-monster is tiny.” Stacie speaks.  
  
“I’m not _tiny_. Beale only has an inch or two on me.” You say annoyed with your back towards the group, not trusting your face to have its normal color after the conversation these girls forced you in. Suddenly, there’s someone behind you. You tense up and shiver when someone’s breath ghosts over your ear.  
  
“Yeah? How did you first figure out that height difference, Beca?”  
  
It’s Stacie. _Fuck_. What does that even mean? You turn to watch her wink confidently and then Coach calls out practice has begun, and as quickly as the conversation started, as quickly it is now dropped. As if nothing ever happened.  
  
“Okay, Bellas, attention here please.” Coach yells out. You see how Jessica and Ashley are giggling over something and Stacie and Chloe are doing some sort of sexy dance move. Fat Amy and Cynthia-Rose seem to be horrified by whatever story Lilly is telling them and you have to suppress a smile, because you can only imagine what crazy thing she has gone through now. “Come on, girls. Stace, Chlo, come on, please.”  
  
The girls get themselves together and regroup quickly in front of the Coach. She talks fast and clear about what they need to do to get to some sort of Nationals or whatever. You’re barely listening as your eyes are focused on your roommate. The shirt she’s wearing is one of your favorites, but you can’t say you wear it better than she does. The shirt isn’t too small on her at all. You know why, you always get shirts a little bigger, because that’s how you like them. So it fits Chloe well, but every time she stretches her arms or makes some sort of fast movement, the shirt crawls a little bit up and you can see her hipbone or the dip in her back.  
  
You’re staring. You know you are, but somehow you can’t get this message passed on to your body or at the very least your eyes, so they could move off of the girl. And when you see Chloe’s lips slightly tug upwards, your confidence only grows and you wait until she makes eye contact with you.  
  
She does, a few times actually. You feel like a stupid teenager, the way you’re smiling at each other every time you catch the other person’s stare. But you can’t really bring yourself to care. Or to stop.  
  
“Okay? So the riff-off is this week and the regionals are the week after that. We really need to be ready for that, ladies.”  
  
“And though the riff-off is great, the regionals are our priority here. We have to make at least second place or we won’t get through to the semi-finals.” Chloe elaborates.  
  
Aubrey continues on about, _something_. You’re not really interested, to be honest. That is until she says your name, still with the same disgust in her voice, as if she’s spitting you out.  
  
“See, _Beca_. I do listen to you. You can all pick someone you’d like to do the solo and Chloe and I will take this into consideration. We obviously make the final decision, but-“ Her smile is the end of that sentence and you know she’s full of shit, because she’s still going to do whatever the fuck she wants to do and choose who she wants to solo, but you’re not in the mood to fight her. So you nod understanding, trying to even form a smile, but it must look as forced as it feels.  
  
“Can we vote for ourselves?” Fat Amy asks.  
  
“I’m voting for you, Aubs.” Stacie says with a wink.  
  
You watch how Coach’s face turns a light shade of red before it disappears quickly again. “That is, very sweet of you Stacie, but I will be sitting this one out. You can vote for Chloe, though.” She says forced and pressuring. Chloe seems to completely miss her best friend’s agenda, but it’s none of your business.   
  
Practice goes by pretty fast. You do the laps with a little more ease than in the beginning, but you still pause and walk every time Aubrey turns the other way. The dancing comes a little more natural to you, now that you’ve done the same steps every day for weeks. You’re glad you’ve been able to mentally mute the music and move on instinct, because that song is truly getting under your skin.  
  
It’s past six when Coach calls it and you’re all so starved, you’ve decided to get Chinese takeout and have dinner at the smelly gym. Aubrey stays as well, which shouldn’t surprise you since she’s also a member of the team, yet it does. She’s a little more relaxed after workhours and you wonder why she can’t always be like this. She’s still an ass and disapproving of you and Fat Amy eating with your hands, but she’s also joining the banter and you even find her laughing a few times. You can now see why Chloe would have her as a friend. She’s almost _not a dictator_.  
  
Your roommate makes her way over and asks if Cynthia-Rose would mind switching places for a little while. Chloe was sitting next to Stacie, so she doesn’t even have to finish her sentence or the girl has already moved. You chuckle at that as your roommate takes the now open space next to you.  
  
“Having fun?” She asks with her usual smirk.  
  
You shrug nonchalant, but Chloe sees right through you. She pokes her elbow into your ribcage and you fake a pain to get her laughing. The truth is, you don’t know if you’re having fun. But it doesn’t suck, so that must count for something. Beale hands you her box with Chinese food and you take some since you cleaned out yours faster than everyone else. You take turns, her poking those dumb sticks into the box and somehow getting to food to stick between them, and you jamming your fork into it after her. You try not to watch how her mouth gets the food from between the chopsticks, but you can still see it from the corners of your eyes. She probably notices, because Chloe’s using her tongue way too excessively.  
  
“Thought about tonight yet?”  
  
You hadn’t. And you don’t want to. You’re having a not-so-awful day and you’d like to keep it that way, since they are pretty rare. But now that Chloe’s mentioned it, you have no choice but to consider it. You already know he’s going to be around for a while, maybe meeting him now that you’re not in your usual, irritated mood is for the best. Besides, how bad could it be? Chloe would be there as well, and you know he won’t bring up anything too personal if you have a friend with you.  
  
“Fine, coffee with the old man it is.” You complain sighing. You scan the girls around you to know for sure no one’s paying attention to your conversation before moving your head closer to the girl besides you and whisper, “But you owe me.”  
  
“Do I?” Chloe asks tempting, her tongue running over her bottom lip before it disappears between her teeth. The action alone is enough to make you want to close the gap between you two, and you’re glad the group of girls is as loud as usual, or else you’d have forgotten all about them. You raise your eyebrow and smirk as an answer, causing Chloe to lean forward, her chest purposely hitting your arms and you awkwardly trying to dodge the touch, as her lips brush the shell of your ear, her hot breath sending electric waves through your body. “Guess I’m gonna have to pay up, then.”  
  
You’re pretty sure your entire face has turned red and it doesn’t help that the girl is winking and grinning at you. _She is evil_.  
  


* * *

  
You leave the gym with Chloe shortly after and if eight o’clock wasn’t so fast approaching, you’d totally try and get into those tight jeans of hers. But you’re about to have coffee with a man you haven’t called your father since you were fifteen years old. Every step you get closer to the coffee shop, the desire to run increases rapidly. Just when you’re about to say ‘ _fuck it’_ and go to your dorm instead, Chloe Beale’s left hand finds its way into your right one and, _whatever_ , you’ll go.  
  
You hold the door open for your roommate, mainly so you don’t have to enter the building first. You spot your dad sitting at a table in the middle of the Starbucks, moving to get up as you approach. You hadn’t realized it earlier today, but your father has dark circles under his eyes and his tie is hanging twisted. He looks worn out and like he hasn’t slept in days.  
  
“Beca.” Your dad speaks, sounding relieved you showed up. You don’t blame him, you’re surprised, too.  
  
“Hi, dad.” You reply, taking a seat in front of him.  
  
“And, Chloe, right?”  
  
You watch your roommate shake his hand before telling you she’s going to get the three of you coffee. When she sees the look on your face, she rephrases. “ _Two_ coffee, and I’ll see if they have Red Bull here.”  
  
Your dad starts to apologize for showing up this morning unannounced and how he ended up with a job here. He sounds sincere when he tells you he didn’t mean to invade the life you’ve started to build up here, but apparently this was the only place hiring. You guess the world isn’t really looking for a lot of Comparative Literature professors.  
  
 You look up towards the line at the register a few times during your dad’s speech and every time you did, Chloe was at the very end of the waiting customers. She’s totally letting people cut.  
  
You tell your dad it’s fine he’s here, even though you’re not sure it is. But he needed a job and there was one here. You’ll keep to your business and he sticks to his. He expresses his gratitude and tells you how good it is to see you again. You don’t know if you believe that. His phone vibrates on the table and he declines whomever called, explaining it was Sheila.  
  
“Yeah? How’s the stepmonster?”  
  
“Oh, Sheila is great, she’s actually in Vegas right now, for-“  
  
“Oh, dad, I don’t actually care, I just wanted to say ‘stepmonster’.”  
  
The man doesn’t seem to care about your insults and he continues to talk about whatever his dumb, new wife is doing in Vegas. _Just like old times_ , you think to yourself. Finally, Chloe makes it back with the drinks. Of course no Red Bull for you, but you happily take the hot chocolate.  
  
“Sorry guys, that line was insane.”  
  
“It is if you let everyone go before you.” You whisper with a hint of spite. Chloe ignores your anger and simply smiles back at you. _God, you hate her_.  
  
“I’m gonna take this to-go. I don’t want to overstay.” You can’t say you’re not thrilled to watch him leave. This whole thing was exhausting. “I’ll see you around on campus, Beca. And maybe we can go for dinner sometime.”  
  
“Don’t push it.” You speak annoyed. The man raises his hands and laughs, thanking Chloe for the coffee as he leaves.  
  
“Well, that wasn’t so bad!” Chloe yelps as she hits your arm with her hand.  
  
“Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t actually around.” The words leaving your lips sound harsher than you meant and you’re forced to watch Chloe’s face fall. You don’t really know why you said that. It was meant as a joke. You actually appreciated her giving you space, but you’re not about to tell her that. So you let your words evaporate in time.  
  
“It wasn’t my business.” Chloe all but whispers.  
  
She seems small and vulnerable and you don’t have the right words, just wrong and sharp ones, so you decide the best thing to do for you is to not speak.  
  
Seconds drag by in the shared silence between you to in the middle of a busy coffee shop. You finish your hot chocolate and put on your jacket, as a hint that you’re leaving. You’re relieved when you see Chloe getting up as well.   
  
The walk home is awkward and you wish you had your earbuds with you to let music fill the silence. Usually Chloe does the filling, but she’s unusually quiet tonight. Her hands are tucked away in her pockets and she’s keeping more distance than ever.  
  
You know you have to say something, but you don’t know what. She should know by now that you say stupid shit. Should you apologize? You’re not good with that and honestly, what would you be apologizing for? Should you make a lame joke to lighten the mood? You doubt you could pull that off. Tell her something personal that would explain why you’re such a dick? Truth is, it would probably work and Chloe would probably sympathize with you, telling you she understands. But you don’t want that. And you don’t want to tell her anything personal. You wouldn’t even know where to start with all the reasons why you’re so screwed up.  
  
You go with the only thing you can think of. “Thanks for uh, coming with me and all.”  
  
“No problem.” Chloe smiles, but it’s just that; a smile. It doesn’t light up her eyes or brighten her face. It just tugs at her lips. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”  
  
“Yeah.” You agree. “You’re not a bad one.” You continue after a few minutes.  
  
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”  
  
You scoff. “Yeah right.” You’re by far the worst friend she’s probably ever had. And she’s the best you’ve ever had, because she’s willing to lie to your face about what a good friend you are.  
  
“I’m serious.” She says, sounding as earnest as you’ve ever heard her be. “You’re not so bad.”  
  
Her hand tugs at yours then and you roll your eyes before accepting the dumb offer. If you can make it up to her by just holding her hand, you will.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? Whaaat, it's almost like I'm getting back to a normal schedule haha. Hope y'all are enjoying it so far, let me know what you liked and what you wanna see more of! Come talk to me about these dumb nerds at tumblr, I'm lifeisbechloe ;D


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Letting go. Everyone talks about it like it’s the easiest thing. Unfurl your fingers one by one until your hand is open. But my hand has been clenched into a fist for…years now; it’s frozen shut." -Gayle Forman
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just start off by saying thanks to everyone who's reading/leaving kudos/leaving comments. I don't feel like I say that enough, but it really helps me to keep motivated to write, so thanks to all of you! It's crazy how many hits this is getting, I feel blessed.
> 
> Now, get to reading!

“Fine. But you owe me.”  
  
The thrill you felt of Beca agreeing to go meet her dad couldn’t compare to the excitement in your chest caused by her teasing. That is one thing you don’t get to see very often, and something you’d like to see more.  
  
You like flirting with Beca in the presence of others, because she’s another level of awkward and her cheeks light up faster than ever.  
  
But tonight isn’t about you. It’s about Beca and her dad, and you wish she would tell you something, anything, about him. About why she doesn’t want him here or what happened between the two of them.  
  
You know he sent her to college, more so forced her into college. But there has to be more to it. It can’t just be that she’s angry he’s made her come here. You saw it in his eyes when he pleaded Beca, for whatever it was he was begging her for outside the dorm room. He wanted something from her. Forgiveness, perhaps. But for what?  
  
You know Beca’s not going to tell you on the way to meeting her dad, but you’re scared she’s not ever going to tell you stuff like that. Stuff that matters. You’re supposed to be friends now, why can’t she let you in?  
  
Inside the coffee shop, you greet the man and then excuse yourself to get drinks for the three of you. Your mind stays on the subject. Beca and her fear of opening up. You don’t expect her to lay down her entire history at your feet as soon as you got her to agree you were friends, but this moment with her dad was the perfect opportunity. You would have taken anything, as little information as Beca could spare, but there was just nothing.  
  
You allow people to skip in front of you, knowing Beca needs to deal with her dad on her own and this way you can be around to pull a stop to her if she snaps again. But you also know you’d have no problem intruding if your mind wasn’t racing as much as it is right now.  
  
You didn’t ask questions when he came by your dorm earlier, because you knew Beca wouldn’t like to be pressured into things. But hours have passed and she still hasn’t come forward with anything on her own. You wonder if this is what it means being friends with the smaller girl. You wonder if she’ll ever let you in, if she’ll ever trust you enough to open up.  
  
When there’s no more people waiting behind you, you’re forced to order and join your friend and her dad with the drinks. The man leaves almost immediately, Ben, he told you after telling him, “Nice to meet you, Mister Mitchell”. You guess he kind of looks like a Ben.  
  
Trying to push your thoughts aside, you went straight to making conversation with Beca, only to be slapped in the face by her. You know she didn’t mean what she said, but you can’t help but feel the sting in your chest.  
  
“It wasn’t my business.” You say more to yourself than to Beca, knowing that most things that have happened and will happen to her are going to be none of your business. She’s never going to make it your business. She’s always going to keep you at a distance, and that thought hurts.  
  
Soon, you and Beca are out of the Starbucks and into the cold air. Your mind is still occupied, but Beca puts herself out there, and you hold her hand to let her know she’s fine. That you are fine.  
  
It’s not exactly fair to give your roommate the cold shoulder just because of things she _hasn’t_ done, even though you’d wished she would do those things. And this is Beca Mitchell. You know her. You know she doesn’t unfold quickly and you’re never going to push her to do so. So it’s not fair to give her the silent treatment. That would be the same thing as screaming at her to open up.  
  
You like her the way she is, _although you’d like her more if she was a little less rude at times_ , but even that would be unlike the Beca you’ve come to know. You like her exactly the way she is and you can only accept her for that, and keeping your fingers crossed that one day she’ll talk to you about these kinds of things.  
  
When you get back to your dorm and watch Beca drop down on her bed with her headphones on and her laptop on her thighs, you try not the feel disappointed and sad because of it. It’s stupid, really. It wouldn’t even be Beca if she did anything other than putting her blue headphones on her head and typing away on her laptop, yet you assumed she was going to bare her soul to you the moment you closed the door behind you.  
  
You curse yourself for how stupid you are and you wish for the first time since you got her as a roommate, that Beca would leave you alone in the room for a while. Instead, she smiles at you occasionally, not realizing what’s occupying your mind right now.  
  
You wish Beca was the kind of person you could talk to about this. Have a mature discussion about, that this is simply how you feel and would want her to know. But you know that’s not going to happen. She’d either get mad at you or she’d start talking about her dad, feeling pressured into doing so. That’s the last thing you want. You don’t want Beca to be so uncomfortable that she’ll spill things that she really doesn’t want to leave her lips.

* * *

  
Sunday passes quickly. You’ve barely seen Beca and you could blame it on spending time with Aubrey if she were to ask.  
  
(You know she won’t.)  
  
Monday is rough. A full day of classes and Hannah is not there when you get to Paul’s art room at seven p.m. after Bellas’ practice. You stay only for two hours and find Beca fast asleep in the desk chair, her head on top of her books with a page stuck to her face because of her drooling. You smile as you lift her head slowly and push her pillow between her face and the books. History, it seems. _No wonder she fell asleep_.  
  
Tuesday morning, Beca is gone before you are, which is rare. You go for your run with Aubrey and learn she and Stacie have started dating. You’re surprised you haven’t been informed earlier, even though she’s assuring you you’re the first to know, but you hug your best friend and tell her you’re happy for her. You’re not lying. You go to class and run into Mister Mitchell in the hallway. He asks you if Beca’s going to all her classes and you can honestly say you don’t know. You’re not sure you would have told him if you did in fact know.  
  
Bellas’ practice starts off with a fight again that day.  
  
“Okay, so we’ve decided that this year’s solo goes to Chloe.”  
  
The group cheers, but you’re not sure they are sincere. Maybe they voted for someone else. That leads to you wondering who you’d choose if you were given the choice. “I think Beca should take my solo.” The words were out before you could have a second thought about them.  
  
Beca’s looking at you, eyes big and full of shock, but her face is relaxed and you can see her lips smile as she gulps.  
  
“Yeah, Beca would be excellent. But also someone else might be equally as excellent.” Fat Amy interrupts. “And they might be shy and not wanna come forward and say they wanted a solo.”  
  
Your eyes stay on Beca and only move to Aubrey when silence takes over in the cold gym. “Well, Beca doesn’t want a solo, so.” She speaks, as if she has any idea what Beca wants. As if she’s ever asked.  
  
“I would be happy to do it if I got to pick a new song and do an arrangement.” Beca says bold.  
  
“Well that’s not how we run things here.”  
  
You intervene before it gets out of hand again, trying to make your best friend see that Beca has a point and trying something new isn’t the end of the world. Or the end of the Bellas.

“Aca-scuse me?” Aubrey says insulted and you feel bad immediately for your best friend, who now thinks you’re not on her side. You hang your head down in defeat as Aubrey turns back to Beca. “You can sing Turn the Beat Around and that’s the last I wanna hear of this.”  
  
In the middle of things, you watch the group and find that Stacie is comfortably hanging against Cynthia-Rose, watching all of this go down as if she couldn’t care less. You wonder if there’s anything better to do for the person dating Aubrey Posen.  
  
Beca gets closer to the two of you, leaving the rest of the group mumbling in the back. “That song is tired. We’re not gonna win with it. If we pull samples from different genres and layer them together, we could make some-“  
  
Aubrey interrupts her and you really wish she hadn’t, because Beca looked so caring and cautious, trying to shrink herself and the person she is just so Aubrey would listen to what she has to say.  
  
“-So, excuse me if I don’t take advice from some alt-girl with her mad-lib beats because she’s never been in a competition. Have I made myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Beca says, hands up defensively as she backs up to the rest of the group. “I won’t solo.”

You hate this. You wish there was something you could do, but you can’t. The truth is, Beca’s right and she would get them to the finals, no doubt about it, with her awesome mixes and her amazing voice. But The Barden Bellas are Aubrey’s legacy. This is what she’s going to leave behind soon. This group that’s been like this since the beginning. She’ll die before she’s going to let Beca change the set list.  
  
“Fine. Fat Amy?”

“Yes, sir?”

“You’ll solo.”  
  
And that was the end of that. Beca didn’t seem upset about it, but you knew she wasn’t happy that Aubrey once again didn’t listen to her. She tried to look careless, but failed when you got back to the dorm and found her angrily smashing things in the room, like you found her all those days ago.  
  
“I can’t find my fucking headphones, I swear to God if that kid from down the hall came in here and-“  
  
You don’t let Beca finish, but instead step into her personal space and reach up to take the ‘ _lost_ ’ headphones that are wrapped around her neck and place them on her head. She looked half ashamed and half furious, but when you started to laugh, she joined you. Soon enough, she threw her headphones off and her clothes and yours quickly followed.

* * *

  
You get a call from your mother on Wednesday, asking if you’re going to come home for Thanksgiving. You haven’t given it much thought and wondered swiftly if Beca was going anywhere for Thanksgiving. The idea of your roommate being alone in this dorm on such a holiday was the reason you told your mom you weren’t sure yet.  
  
The day goes by fast and you see Hannah again for the first time that week. You finish your canvas and start a new one. Paul says you’re doing great and you don’t want to get your hopes up, but you think you might have finally found your _thing_. Hannah asks if you want to celebrate by getting dinner sometime this week and you accept her offer, knowing you’ve had dinner together so many times, it’s no big deal.  
  
You head home early that day and grab groceries on the way. You’re halfway through making dinner when Beca gets back and you’re glad she looks enthusiastic about the food. She tells you her mom used to make a killer mac and cheese. It’s the first time she’s ever mentioned her mother to you and you don’t like the way she said _used to_ , so you don’t reply, pretending you’re too busy singing along to the radio. But it doesn’t sit right with you, just ignoring Beca’s words like that. So when food is served and Beca’s at least halfway through her plate, you ask her if it stands a chance against her mom’s macaroni.  
  
“Definitely not.” She says while licking her index finger clean from the ketchup it was covered in. “Or-“ She says, a sad smile appearing on her face, “-maybe I’m just remembering it wrong and it was actually shit.” She pauses, taking another spoonful to her mouth as you wait for her. “It was the only dish she ever made, so.”  
  
“Oh, so your dad does all the cooking?”  
  
“When he was around, he’d cook, yeah. That or get takeout.”  
  
You tell Beca your mom called this morning to ask about Thanksgiving, so maybe when she goes home for the break, she can get her mother to cook her famous macaroni again and see if it really was that great or if her mind made it up.  
  
“Oh.” Beca’s face falls as she shakes her head and you’re worried your suspicion might get confirmed.  
  
She doesn’t say anything else, just keeps her eyes on her hands in her lap, fumbling with the spoon on her plate.  
  
“Oh my God, I’m sorry, Becs. I didn’t know.”  
  
“No, it’s alright. It’s been like, four and a half years, so.”  
  
She gets up quickly, asking if you want some more before filling her plate with more food. When she’s back to her position on the floor besides you, you’re not sure what more you could say. You think about reaching out, pulling her into a hug or simply putting your hand on hers, but Beca starts talking about her classes, which she barely ever does, definitely not on her own terms, so you understand she doesn’t want you to talk about her mom anymore. You respect that.  
  
It’s not long until you’re flirting with the dark haired girl again and that night your playful banter leads to more. You try to keep her in the bed with you by placing your lips on her skin and your hands around her body, but Beca leaves for her own bed eventually.  
  
She always does.  
  
The next morning, Beca texts you during your second period to ‘ _save her from hell’_. You eventually find her in outside one of the classrooms. When you look inside, you see her father standing in front of the class.  
  
“I can stand him to be here, doesn’t mean I have to actually be _in_ his presence.”  
  
You laugh and take Beca with you to your Russian Lit class, where you sit in the back and focus more on how flustered you can get Beca than Professor Boykov and his undying love for Solzhenitsyn. When the class is dismissed, you technically have three more classes that day, but Beca convinces you to skip them and you end up going to the park behind the college campus.  
  
You lie in the grass with Beca next to you for what feels like days. You watch the sun rising more and more until it’s finally right above you. Beca leaves two times, once to get sandwiches, the second time to get another pair of headphones which she connects to the phone she uses to play music off.  
  
Maybe it’s the most peaceful afternoon you have ever had. Feeling the grass tickle your neck, the sun warming your body, the air filling your lungs as if they never worked fully up until this moment. Beca makes the moment even more beautiful, with her set of headphones on your head and her music softly playing through them to fill your ears.  
  
Not that any of that matters, because it’s her presence that makes this moment. You could go without the music, without the sandwiches, even without the air and the sun, as long as Beca’s the one lying next to you, her sweaty hand in yours indicating you grabbed hers too long a time ago.  
  
And it’s funny, because if this was anyone else, the silence would perhaps be awkward or there would be the need to fill it with chit chat and stupid jokes. With Beca, it’s calming. Soothing, almost.  
  
You turn at one point, to see what the girl besides you is doing. She’s lying on her back, eyes closed and content looking, the hand that isn’t holding yours is tucked behind her head, keeping it free off the ground. The way her arm is positioned allows you to spot her small tattoo on her wrist; a tiny set of headphones. It’s not the first time you’ve seen it, but it still intrigues you.  
  
“I really like that one.” You whisper, automatically thinking back to all the other tattoos you’ve seen on her body.  
  
Beca’s right eye opens a little to glare at you and you have to hint at her wrist a few times before she gets it. “Oh. Yeah, me too.” She smiles and closes her eyes again, the hint of the smile staying present on her lips.  
  
You should turn back, but you don’t want to stop looking at Beca. Minutes pass and just when you think she’s going to tell you to stop staring, you decide you can get away with it if you just ask her something. “Do you want to get more?”  
  
Her right eye opens again, more angry-looking than before, as if she knows why you’ve asked her that. She snaps them shut again and sighs. “Tattoos? Yeah, definitely. Just don’t know what to get yet.”  
  
That sounds silly to you. How could you want something, when you don’t even know what you want? You let it go, though, feeling like words ruin things in this place.  
  
When the sun starts to fall, you and your friend make your way back to your dorm. Beca’s busy making burgers and fries by the time you get back from your shower and you can’t help but tease her a little, saying the burgers need to be flipped while standing in the smaller girl’s way, until there’s no other way for her to brush her body against you.  
  
She does this with force, but only limited.  
  
The food is good, but it’s clear your roommate has never heard of spices to improve smell and taste. You make a comment and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone roll their eyes like Beca does.  
  
A phone starts vibrating, not for the first time that evening, but Beca doesn’t even seem to acknowledge the noise. “Ignoring someone?” You ask confidently, while knowing Beca won’t actually tell you if she is.  
  
Beca stuffs her mouth with half a burger before looking up, brows pushed together as if she had no idea what you’re talking about. Your eyes move to the source of the noise, right above her on the counter, and quickly back to your roommate’s disgusting, filthy face covered in food. “Oh.” She stumbles getting the word out through her filled mouth. “It’s probably just my dad.”  
  
“He sounds persistent.”  
  
“He sounds like an asshole who can’t respect boundaries.”  
  
You guess that’s true. Beca’s made it clear she didn’t want him to pressure her and that she’ll reach out for him when she’s ready, but you still wish she would inform you a little more about him. Anything but ‘ _he’s an asshole’_.  
  
You suddenly don’t feel like eating anymore. Your stomach has turned to the idea of how independent Beca is. How she can shut people out and do it with so little care, eating dinner like she doesn’t have a care in the world at all. It’s quite scary.  
  
“You could at least pick up, Becs.” You whisper as you get up and start washing your dirty dishes.  
  
“Why?” Beca snaps back and you can tell by the change in her voice that you’ve angered her.  
  
You sigh and let your plate fall down in the sink, turning to face Beca with water dripping from your fingertips to the floor. “You left in the middle of his class, Beca. He’s probably just worried. The least you could do is pick up, so he knows you’re alright.” You turn back to clean, letting your roommate know you’re not interested in a fight, you just want what’s best for her.  
  
“Don’t fucking act like you know him. Or me!”  
  
You can’t say you’ve missed Beca scolding. Lately, she’s really reduced her usage of curse words and you forgot how sick they make you feel. “Fine, Beca. Forget I said anything.” You surrender. You really don’t want to spend your night fighting with your roommate.  
  
“You can’t piss me off and then decide to stop fighting. That’s not how it works, Beale. I know you may not know that, since you never fight with anyone, because you’re _Miss Perfect_.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?!” You already feel tears building, but you will be damned if you start crying right now.  
  
“That you avoid fights and never speak up! You just let everyone use you, including your dick of a best friend.”  
  
“I don’t want to fight, so what?” You ask, biting down on your bottom lip to prevent Beca from seeing it trembling. You really won’t give your roommate the satisfaction of discussing your best friend again. You’ve done that plenty already.  
  
“Why not? Why can’t you just let it out and speak your goddamn mind! For God’s sake.” She curses under her breath as she takes a dish towel and starts wiping the clean dishes dry.  
  
“I don’t want you to be mad at me.” You say with your eye focused on your hands in the now cold water, scrubbing at a few spoons and forks.  
  
“Well, I am mad.” She says, yet the anger has disappeared from her voice. “I’m angry that you won’t fight with me. Okay, just-“ Her hands are suddenly around your wrists and you make eye contact with the small girl, no longer caring if she sees the tears falling from your eyes. “I think those are clean.” She chuckles before dipping her hands in the water and getting them from out of your grip, her fingers lingering against yours for a second.  
  
“I don’t understand.” You say, trying to swallow the lump in your throat away. “You want to fight with me?” Thoughts cross your mind that this is it. This is where Beca leaves you. You can’t say you didn’t expect it, but you wish you had more time with her. But you made her angry and she wants to fight with you. She probably hates you. _Why did you ever say anything?_  
  
“Of course.” Beca replies as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Fighting isn’t a bad thing, Beale.”  
  
But it is, right? Growing up, you never had people fighting around or with you. Your parents were always loving and when family members came over, it was all jokes and laughter. There were no people getting into arguments or fights. It was always fun, like most days in your childhood. Whenever there were people fighting on school or on the playground, you just stayed out of that area and headed somewhere where kids were playing and laughing instead.  
  
Perhaps you’ve been doing that your whole life.  
  
“Okay.” You whisper carefully. If Beca wants you to speak your mind, if she wants to fight, you can try. You scrape your throat, no idea what you’ll say the moment you open your mouth, but also not caring. You know that Beca won’t care what you say, as long as you say something. “I don’t know what happened between you and your dad and honestly, I don’t care.” _You do_. “Because all I see is a man in pain, trying to reach out to his daughter over and over again, receiving nothing but her voicemail.”  
  
Beca’s smiling widely, her eyes sparking as if you’re saying the sweetest words in the book. “Is that all?” She asks, hands raised before she taps against her own chest. “I won’t break, come on.”  
  
“He’s trying, probably worried sick about you and you don’t even care. I don’t see _him_ as the asshole, I see _you_ as one!” You’ve raised your voice a little, but Beca still doesn’t seem intimidated. You wonder what more you could say or do to get that done. You doubt you could ever match her angry eyes. “And your burgers need pickles on them. And, they taste like _shit_.” You spit out, half laughing at the curse word you used.  
  
Beca’s laughing with you, holding you steady with her hands gripping your arms. “Wow, Beale. I didn’t mean to corrupt you.” She says with a chuckle.  
  
You lock your eyes on hers for a second as your own laughter dies out, waiting until you see her gulp under your stare before moving in and connecting your lips on Beca’s.  
  
You make quick work of her shirt as you push her on the bed, straddling her thighs while your mouths work in sync. Beca allows you for a few minutes, but eventually flips you so that you’re the one with its back on the mattress.  
  
“Just because you said two bad words, doesn’t mean you get to be on top, Beale.”

* * *

 

* * *

  
  
The first birthday your mom had after her death, you spent skipping school and crying at the graveyard. You don’t remember how many hours you spent there in the pouring rain, but by the time you got home, your dad didn’t even notice you. In his defense, he was completely drunk, so even if it was past midnight, he wouldn’t have cared.  
  
The second one you spent in your room, drinking beverages that only held a few percentages of alcohol, but it was still too much for an underage kid.  
  
The others after that, you don’t even remember. You went from crying and drinking like a little kid, to fighting guys that were twice your size, just to get the anger out. And maybe to feel a little pain. But whether you were a sad thirteen year old, or an angry seventeen year one, November sixth is always spend the same.  
  
Alone.  
  
Alone on the graveyard. Alone in your room. Alone behind bars in the back of the local police station.  
  
Alone.  
  
You intend to spend this one like that as well, but the moment Chloe comes by your class after you jokingly texted her to come save you, you know it won’t be anything what you’re used to. She takes you to her class and you think Russian literature is quite interesting, but you might be pretending, because Chloe’s being an annoying kid.  
  
“I can’t just skip all my classes, Becs!”  
  
“Come on.” You plead, putting on a soft face and a slight pout, hoping Chloe will be weak for it. You don’t want to spend this day indoors, in a fucking school, where the probability to run into your dad is higher than anywhere else.  
  
Chloe shakes her head, but you can see the corners of her mouth starting to curl. “Very cute, but-“  
  
“Please?” You know it’s the last gentle push Chloe needed and sure enough, you’re walking out the door of the school with Beale next to you. She seems to be following your lead, so you go to the only quiet place around here that you know of.  
  
You found it in the very beginning of your time here, when you didn’t feel like going back to your dorm after a night in the club, but found that Luke hadn’t opened the store yet. You were just roaming around when you came upon the giant field, surrounded by so many trees that by the time you reached the end of the field, the noise brought on by the college students were not even hearable anymore.  
  
You take Chloe there and lay down on the grass, quickly wondering what she thinks about this place. She’s quiet, which she barely ever is and you have to open your eyes every now and then to check, but she has a smile resting on her lips and there’s a lightness to her breathing, so you think she’s okay.  
  
You start to feel your stomach growling after an hour or so, and you quickly get food from the grocery store on campus and head back to your roommate, pushing out the doubts of whether or not she will still be there when you arrive.  
  
(Of course she is.)  
  
The remembrance of your mother resurfaces as soon as all the food’s been eaten and Chloe’s quiet again. You spend hours thinking about her, trying to remember every moment you’ve ever had with her, what your dad is doing right now, if he even remembers, if he wonders what you’re doing today. You doubt he’s off looking for you, but more likely than that, he’s probably just waiting to get another call from the cops.  
  
Chloe took your hand in hers at one point and, for once, you don’t mind.  
  
You also have thoughts about telling Chloe about this day, about her. You accidentally let something slip yesterday, something you wish you hadn’t, something personal. Your mom wasn’t the best cook, but whenever it was just you and her for dinner, she made macaroni and you loved it. But maybe Chloe was right. Maybe you remember the food as great, when actually the moments you shared with her while eating the food is what made it great.  
  
(It’s very plausible. Your mom almost burned down the kitchen, more than once.)  
  
But you don’t mind that Chloe knows your mother has gone. It actually feels as a relieve that she knows, which is weird, because you never want _anyone_ to know. Maybe this is what friendship really is. Letting people in. You guess it doesn’t feel _that_ terrible.  
  
However, you don’t tell your ‘friend’ about the date it is today. Somehow, you doubt you’d get the words out.  
  
When you can’t stand your own thoughts anymore, you leave to get another set of headphones. You run into Jesse on the way back and you guess he’s on his way to the store, because he’s holding a big box which you can only assume is a new delivery.  
  
“Anything good?” You ask him, trying to open the box to peek inside while Jesse’s pressing it against his chest and slapping your hands away.  
  
“Staff only!” He yells with a stupid smirk and you sigh your surrender. “It’s a little surprise I have for Luke.”  
  
”So you got him a box filled with movie soundtracks?”  
  
He glares at you in shock and you don’t even pretend to hide your confidence. _You know this loser so well._  
  
“So where are you headed off to, with.. Two sets of headphones?” Jesse smiles at the realization and you roll your eyes to show your annoyance.  
  
“Nowhere.” You state simply, continuing your way back to the field, but Jesse follows you and you know he won’t let this go. Why is the record store in the same direction as you’re going?  
  
“Let me guess, your girlfriend wanted you to go get her one?”  
  
“Not my girlfriend.”  
  
“But you know who I mean? I say girlfriend and you think of Chloe, that is so sweet.”  
  
You groan. _Damn it._  
  
“You know Beca, you seem so dangerous and antisocial with those things in your ears and the tattoos, but really, you’re just a girl. Standing in front of a girl. Asking her to-“  
  
You hit his arm before he can finish his dumb joke. “Next one is going in the babymaker, Swanson.” You threaten, but he just continues laughing and you hate that your threats don’t work on him.  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.” He says, trying to control his breathing.  
  
You walk in silence for a few seconds and just when you think he really has let the topic go, you feel his hand touching yours and you push him away instantly. “Dude, what the fuck!”  
  
“Oh sorry, I just wanted to check if you hold hands with everyone that you take a walk with.”  
  
His grin is wide and annoying and you wish you could punch him in the jaw so he could never smile again. Instead of doing that, you just glare angrily at him until he once again tells you he’ll stop.  
  
“Just one question, though.” He says in a serious matter, and you wonder if there’s something he wants to know about the store or something. You stop at the corner where he needs to go left and you plan to go right, allowing him to speak. “When she kisses you-“  
  
You turn around immediately, continuing your path as you hear Jesse crack up behind you. You think you can still hear his laughter when you make it to Chloe five minutes later.  
  
She seems fine with every song you play, and when she reaches for your hand again during the third song, you force yourself not to startle or freeze. Jesse’s words come back to you and you hate that he’s gotten into your head, because it’s stupid. You don’t like Chloe. You’re just her friend now, and she’s a very touchy person. With everyone! So not just you. She’s always all over everyone, which can sometimes be a little annoying, but that’s who she is.  
  
You shake the thoughts off and try to allow the music its intended purpose. A few seconds later, you’ve already let the song into your body and your head is cleared.  
  
You don’t know how long you’ve been lying in the grass, but when you feel Chloe sitting up beside you, you see it’s starting to get dark. You watch the girl for a little while. She’s unaware that your eyes are open, so you get a free pass to stare at her back and the small bit of skin that’s revealed thanks to the girl leaning forward.  
  
“Wanna head home?” You speak after a few minutes.  
  
She turns her head and the first thing you see is her smile. She looks really happy with her head in her hands, her ginger hair reflecting in the darkness surrounding you, her bright eyes shining at you. “Sure.” She agrees and you both walk home.  
  
You end up making dinner, which of course Chloe has something to say about.  
  
“You can do it yourself if you want.”  
  
“I’m just saying, Becs. A little bit of salt and pepper never killed anyone.”  
  
_Ugh, why are you roomed with literally the most annoying person on the planet?_ You don’t give her the satisfaction of an answer and instead start eating your hamburger. You honestly don’t know what she’s complaining about, the food is great. And taste is overrated, anyway.  
  
You felt your phone vibrate on your way home and while you were making dinner, so it’s no surprise you’ve basically blocked out the sound by the time you’re having dinner. You know it’s your dad without checking and you know he wants to know why you weren’t in class today. You really don’t want to hear his voice on this day. Not on any day, really, but definitely not this day. On this day, you want to be alone.  
  
Well, technically you’re not alone, because you’ve been spending this entire day with Chloe, but your dad doesn’t need to know that.  
  
(You try not to think too much about the fact that you’re not alone on the one day you’re supposed to be alone on.)  
  
Apparently Chloe hasn’t been able to block out the noise from your phone and she does not agree with your ignoring method, which was to be expected, since she doesn’t agree with a lot of things you do.  
  
It’s not the fact that she mentioned it that pisses you off, it’s the fact that she’s getting out of the conversation as soon as you push back. It reminds you of every single Bellas’ practice where she says one thing to Aubrey and then completely lets her walk over her. It’s like she does one, tiny step forward to show what she really thinks of it, and then takes sixty back out of fear of hurting someone’s feelings. And it pisses you off.  
  
It reminds you of the previous Bellas’ practice where Aubrey denied you a chance to solo and Chloe only stood up for you with a few whispered words, completely letting her best friend waltz over her. And you don’t care that she didn’t try harder to get that solo for you. Hell, you don’t even care about that group and you definitely don’t want a stupid solo in Turn The Beat Around.  The thing that pisses you off is that she lets herself be used, just because she doesn’t think her opinion matters. Because she has an opinion, but she’s just too scared to voice it.  
  
And it’s weird, because on any other occasion, you would have just left the room as soon as she started to complain about you ignoring your dad, but now you really just need her to understand that fighting isn’t a bad thing. It’s a way to express yourself, to show someone what you believe in and what you stand for.  
  
It’s basically the only way you can have a real conversation with someone. When the truth gets screamed and yelled at one another. Which is exactly what Chloe does after a little push. You can’t help but smile at her words, not because you think she’s lying, you know you’re an asshole and you don’t particular mind that she thinks of you like that as well, but because it’s just _so funny_.  
  
Chloe’s face gets all red, but her eyes are still sweet and bright and you don’t think she could ever have real anger in them.  
  
You laugh because this idiot can’t even pretend to be really angry and it’s adorable. She’s trying, though, you’ll give her that.  
  
“And your burgers need pickles on them. And, they taste like _shit_.”  
  
Chloe Beale saying ‘shit’ is something you don’t ever want to forget, but it’s also kind of hot and you know it’s stupid, this need to kiss her every time you’ve been arguing, but there’s just something about that moment.  
  
The moment where you’ve let it all out and find that Chloe’s still there. That she hasn’t made a run for it. That she stayed. The relief those two things combined bring you, mixed with how the ginger makes you feel when she’s looking at you with those big eyes, is the cause for how heavy your stomach feels and how not even a bullet to the chest could stop you from closing the distance between the two of you. Ever.  
  
But Chloe moves faster than you this time and you allow her to have her moment of domination before you push her back into the bed and take control. Her hair smells like grass and spring, while her lips remind you of summer as she lights a fire with them.  
  
Having sex with the girl is one of your favorite things to do, but sex itself has nothing on the moment right after, while Chloe’s still in ecstasy and breathing heavily against your skin, her head buried in your neck and her nails digging in your back to prevent you from leaving.  
  
You stay with her until you feel her breathing evening out and her hands lose their strength. You wait a couple more minutes until you’re certain she has fallen asleep and then you crawl off of the ginger and out of the bed. You check the time and see it’s still before midnight. You quickly get dressed and head outside.  
  
It’s fairly quiet outside, for a college campus, apart from the occasional scream here and there. You sit down against a tree to watch the sky and the stars and you wonder if there exists a place up there that hold all the people that ever went away. And if it exists, and your mom’s up there, if it cured her of the pain she was in on the day she gave up.  
  
You’ve never been much of a believer, but it sure is a nice thought. It’s almost as if she’s still around that way, painless and happy. The only condition being that you’ll never see her again.  
  
“Happy birthday, mom.” You whisper.

* * *

  
You get to your English class five minutes late that morning, but no one even seems to notice. Well, almost no one. You sigh annoyed as the cheerful boy from a few rows down skips to your place in the back and sits down next to you, smile as bright as always. You’re jealous of how well-slept and rested he looks.  
  
“Rough night, Be-caw?” He whispers, obviously caring about the class not being interrupted.  
  
“Just not a morning person.” You mumble, hoping he’ll leave you alone for now. Obviously, you’re mistaken.  
  
“I can tell. Hey, did you see Rocky on TV last night? Still great after sixty times.”  
  
“Rocky?” You ask confused, wondering who would have a dumb name like that.  
  
“You don’t know Rocky?” The boy asks with pain visible in his eyes. He works fast then, unpacking his bag and you spot multiple movies, a few CDs and juice pouches. “Time for a movie education. A movie-cation.”  
  
“Wow, you must really sweep your girlfriend off of her feet.”  
  
“What? Oh, I don’t have a girlfriend.”  
  
“But you have juice pouches and Rocky!” You joke, mocking the young man’s interests.  
  
Jesse and you spend the rest of the English class discussing how lame movies are and how predictable every ending is. Well, that’s all you. He spends the two hours defending his favorite films and the music in them. You guess the boy isn’t that bad and at least you have an excuse to not pay attention in the boring class.  
  
Even after the class gets dismissed, Jesse keeps talking and bothering you, but you spot your father in the hallway, so you pretend to listen, hoping that if you stall long enough, your dad will leave without noticing you.  
  
“Alright, well, I have French right now. I guess I will see you tonight for the riff-off.”  
  
“What the hell is a riff-off?” You yell at the young man’s back, who’s not even sparing you another glance, disappearing out of the college room and leaving you by yourself.  
  
You shake your head at his behavior and start packing up your stuff, trying to remember what class you have next.  
  
“Beca, it’s good to see you in class for a change.”  
  
You don’t have to look up to see the man behind the voice. What looked like your father walking the hallways, is now looking more and more like a trap. “Checking up on me, old man?” You can hear the annoyance in your own voice and you feel proud of it.  
  
“Just making sure you don’t get kicked out again. I’ve been told you’re more than a little behind.”  
  
“Oh my God, you totally are keeping tabs on me.” You say with a raised voice, throwing the bag with books over your shoulder and dragging yourself down the long set of stairs towards the door your dad’s blocking, which happens to be your only way out.  
  
“I’m still your father, Beca. I want what’s best for you.”  
  
“Yeah, you blackmailing me into college is totally the best for me.” Your father isn’t a very large man, but somehow getting past him to leave the room is impossible for you.  
  
“Blackmailing? Beca, I’m only protecting you. Being a DJ is a good hobby, it’s not a job. You need to finish college. At least one year, and it’s not looking much like you’re trying.”  
  
You throw your head back and sigh exaggerated, annoyed showing defeat in not being able to leave. “Dad, I want to produce music. I want to make music, okay?” You tell him what must be the hundredth time now.  
  
“But you’re going to get a college education first. For free, might I add.” The look in your dad’s eyes is serious, but you can see the tiredness and exhaustion in them. “So I suggest you go to all your classes from now on and get your grades up.”  
  
You don’t answer him, you just keep your eyes locked on his face, anger pouring out of you, until he leaves with a dumb nod and smile, only increasing your rage. You slam your fist into the wall, but not nearly hard enough to injure yourself before heading to your next class. If you didn’t have that History retake you’ve been studying for all week, perhaps you’d consider skipping the rest of the day, just to spite your dad. But you promised the Dean you’d retake every single exam you missed, and this is the last one. If you get this one done, you are all caught up. No longer in need to see your counselor.  
  
You head down the other side of the building with your fists ready to attack anyone who so much as looks at you funny. This dumb riff-off tonight better involve beating people’s faces, because you’re gonna need that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you liked and want to see more of! I'll be back with the next chapter soon, hopefully!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "I’ll never ask you to be anything other than exactly you." -Tyler Knott Gregson
> 
> /

You hear Beca moving around and cursing under her breath, but you don’t bother opening your eyes. You know she’s not much of a morning person and making small talk is already hard when she’s in a good mood. You doubt you’d make it out alive if you forced her into a conversation with you before eight am.  
  
You follow her movements around the room, judging from where her feet hit the floor. You think she’s tiptoeing and you try not to make that about yourself, but Beca’s usually not light on her feet or careful to show her presence. She’s loud and doesn’t care much about who she wakes or startles in the process. You hide your face behind your hands, not trustworthy of your mouth to keep a straight face at this discovery and what your mind decides to make of it. You like the idea of Beca being quiet to let you sleep, but you doubt it’s anything but an idea.  
  
The door closes softly and you’re relieved you don’t have to hide your smile anymore. You skip out of bed and see the clothes you wore yesterday scattered around the floor. Your grin only grows from the sight of it. If you close your eyes, you can almost feel the path Beca’s mouth followed on your body last night. However, if you open them, you can probably see the marks she left.  
  
You head to the shower and meet Aubrey outside afterwards. You’re walking more than running, talking to your best friend about her new relationship and a little about Beca, too. Aubrey is still very skeptical about her motives, but you know Beca doesn’t mean any harm and you think if you talk about her a little more, Aubrey will eventually see she’s not some villain. That she’s not here to ruin The Bellas or your friendship, or whatever evil plans your best friend’s made up in her head.  
  
You don’t have any classes today, so Aubrey calls Stacie to come over to your dorm. Ever since freshman year, you’ve had your room as a hangout spot. Aubrey says your dorm is the biggest, but you know they’re all the same. Your best friend just has more stuff, taking up more space.  
  
“Tea?” You ask Aubrey, already heating up some water before she can answer.  
  
“It’s quite the mess in here, Chlo.” Aubrey speaks as she makes her way towards your bed. You choose to ignore the judgment in her voice and snicker as you hand her a cup and sit down next to her, knees pressed to your chest. “Is it safe to assume from this that you two are still..” She ends the sentence by raising her eyebrows in a hinting way.  
  
“Going at it like rabbits? Totes.” The wink escapes you naturally and Aubrey rolls her eyes at you like Beca always does, but also unlike Beca in every way.  
  
“Chloe, I don’t think this is something to joke about.”  
  
You push your shoulder against hers softly. “Come on, Bree. I thought you started to like Beca.”  
  
“ ** _Like_**?!” She spits out with indication you’ve insulted her in the worst imaginable way. ”I will never like that alt-girl, Chlo. I let her stay, because you’ve got the hots for her right now. You’ll get tired of it soon enough and then it’s just us again, leading The Bellas like we used to. No rebels with weird mix ideas.”  
  
You don’t know why you feel something hot boiling in your stomach or why your jaw clenches at your best friend’s words. “I don’t ‘ _have the hots’_ for anyone, Bree. It’s just fun and convenient. And, even if I did, why would I get tired of it?”  
  
“Because you always do, Chlo. It’s not a bad thing, you just lose interest quickly. With everything.” Aubrey chuckles as she goes to get another cup of tea. “So about the riff-off tonight-“  
  
“I dated Tom, didn’t I?”  
  
Aubrey sighs and keeps her silence. There’s not much that can shut the girl up, but the topic of your previous boyfriend always does the trick. You don’t push it, although you have Beca’s words echoing in your head, the feeling of letting it out of your system quite satisfying and presumably what you’d want to do right now. “So what, you want to date Beca?”  
  
“What? Don’t be stupid.” You brush off, cleaning up some clothes on the floor while Aubrey makes sandwiches.  
  
“Oh my God!” Aubrey yelps and it startles you. When your eyes meet hers, they’re big and dark like you just told her a scandal. “You totally do. You have a crush on the alt-girl.”  
  
“Having a crush on someone and wanting to date them are two separate things.” You state nonchalant with slightly flustered cheeks, going back to cleaning the room or at least making an attempt to.  
  
“Chloe Beale!” Aubrey speaks suddenly next to your ear before spinning you around, her face close to yours and her eyes scanning what’s in front of it. She stares at you like that for what feels like minutes, until she finally blinks and moves away from you. “You cannot be serious. You have a crush on Beca Mitchell. Why, Chlo? Out of all the people..”  
  
The words come fast and hit you hard, in the face, in your stomach. You feel heavy and hot. Not just hot, but burning hot. “What, no, I mean, I don’t! But, what do you mean, _out of all the people_?”  
  
“Out of all the people, Chlo!”  
  
“So what if I did!”  
  
Aubrey flops down on your bed, her head in her hands as if you’ve just disappointed her. Maybe you have. You take a deep breath before sitting down next to her, because you’ve noticed the shift in air. Things are going to be serious right now, and you’re not sure you’re ready. You haven’t even thought things through yourself, now you have to talk to your best friend about it. Perhaps that’s the only way you will think about this topic. You certainly haven’t allowed yourself in this last couple of weeks.  
  
You rest your head on your best friend’s shoulder and she asks you if you actually like her. “What’s not to like?” You reply, regretting it immediately, because Aubrey lists about six things before you can stop her. She sighs and says Beca’s not good enough for you. You don’t waste your breath on explaining how you’re not good enough for her, instead you let the silence speak for you.  
  
It’s quiet for a few minutes, your mind included. You had figured this revelation would’ve taken over your every thought, but instead it’s calm in your head. Like every dark cloud has evaporated and you can see the sky again. It’s a shade of blue you’d forgotten even existed, so clear it wipes away every doubt you had. Like everything makes sense again.  
  
“I like her.” You whisper to yourself, coming to terms with these words and what they mean.  
  
“Then let’s go get her.” Aubrey states, rising to her feet and expecting you to do the same.  
  
You don’t. “Aubs.” You wait for your best friend to turn around before you finish your sentence. “She doesn’t like me.”  
  
Aubrey stares at you and you stare right back, watching the disbelief fall slowly from her face until all that’s left is just a sad smile. Just when she opens her mouth to say something, Stacie busts through the door. You’re quite grateful for it, since you doubt your best friend had anything to say you wanted to hear.  
  
“What’s up, my lady-lovers, I brought the rest of the gang!”  
  
Within seconds, your room is filled with Bellas and you instantly feel happiness take over again. How can you be sad when you have the most amazing girls in your presence? It’s not long until they start to question where Beca is and you explain she had a retake today. Stacie winks at you and you blush a little, wondering how much the girl knows. You don’t think Aubrey told her anything, Stacie is kind of a natural in detecting these sort of things, you guess.  
  
Even though Aubrey didn’t mean for this to be a team meeting or whatsoever, she says a few words about the riff-off tonight and then heads into the small kitchen to make everyone tea and share some biscuits.  
  
“No gracias, sir. No British food for this Aussie.” Fat Amy says as she grabs a bag of nachos from the cabinets.  
  
“I don’t think nachos are very Australian, Amy.” Cynthia-Rose says, leaving Jessica and Ashley with the giggles. Fat Amy just slaps her stomach and opens her stuffed mouth, in disgust to everyone. She gets hit in the face with a pillow by at least three different people.  
  
Everyone messes around like that for a while until it’s after one and half of the freshman Bellas have classes. Beca comes into the room just when everyone’s starting to leave. “Having a meeting without me, Coach? Or just a vote to kick me out?” Beca speaks with joy in her voice and when she winks at you, your entire body breaks out in sweat and you really hope your face isn’t as red as it feels like.  
  
“Don’t give me any ideas, Beca.” Aubrey replies and Beca nods with a tight-lipped smile, bringing her index and middle finger to her head to salute Aubrey as she leaves.  
  
“Isn’t she a sunshine..” Beca mumbles as she grabs an energy drink and drops down on her bed.  
  
“I’m guessing from the unusual sight of you smiling, you’ve passed your test?”  
  
Beca smiles big and bright at you and in that second, every organ in your torso gets lifted and lays heavy at the bottom of your throat. It feels like you might suffocate, but you don’t care. As long as she keeps smiling. “Jup.” She replies, popping the p in exaggeration. “No more history, no more retakes, no more Dean of Students up my ass.”  
  
You chuckle at your friend’s words. “You know you still have to go to classes and there’s more tests coming up in like-“  
  
“Beale, Beale, wow. Let me enjoy my freedom for a few hours, would you?” Beca’s eyes are glistering, pupils dilated and there’s not a hint of sarcasm or anger to find in her face. She’s a different kind of pretty, but still pretty like she always is.  
  
Normally you would have made a move right about now. Leaning into her personal space and explaining how you could help her enjoy her freedom a little more, but your recent discovery, the fact that you _like_ her now, is the reason you don’t.  
  
This thing you have with Beca, this _deal_ , was never supposed to develop into something more, but here you are. And it makes things feel wrong to you. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did. Now it’s like a disgusting threesome; you, Beca and the feelings you have for her.  
  
You head to the desk and open the laptop, if only to have Beca out of your sight. You try to focus on the essay you have yet to start, but of course you can’t. All you can think is if it’s best to end things now, while you can still get out with only your clothes ripped, but no visible scars on your skin.  
  
You’re busy thinking of the right words to give Beca as to why you can’t have sex with her anymore when you notice her bed shift and hear her feet approaching. You close your eyes and try to ignore the way your stomach is turning.  
  
“What are you doing?” She whispers in your ear, low and smug. You know exactly what that voice means.  
  
“Just, uhm, my essay.” You curse yourself for your inability to form normal sentences whenever she’s so close.  
  
“That’s too bad.” Beca says, taking your earlobe in between her teeth before sucking on it roughly. “Because I need you.”  
  
The sigh that leaves your mouth is way too sexual for someone who’s only being touched at her ear, but you can’t help it. You’re weak for this girl and your body doesn’t mind showing it.  
  
“Well, I don’t really _need_ you.” She explains herself against your skin as she moves her lips over your neck. “I **_want_** you.”  
  
If you weren’t weak before, you definitely are right now. You turn around in your chair, meeting Beca’s lips desperate and hungry. You wrap your legs around her to keep her close and pull her towards you by the shirt. She nearly trips over, but your hands are firm and strong enough to keep her up. You can tell she’s surprised, but she’s allowing it all to happen with a smug smile, as if she’s getting exactly what she wanted.  
  
_You guess she’s right there.  
_  
You spend a long time kissing and sucking on her lips that by the time you realize she’s got skin underneath her clothes that need attention, too, her set of lips are swollen and bruised. It’s really a magnificent view; Beca without a shirt on, trapped between your legs, her eyes full of lust, her lips swollen due to you. You can’t help but grin at the girl.  
  
“What are you smiling about, Beale?” She asks you, unwrapping herself from your legs and spreading them, so she can place herself on you with one of her thighs between your legs.  
  
“I’m not smiling at all.” You lie obviously, forcing the corners of your lips down by sucking your lips between your teeth, your eyebrows raised as if that makes anything more believable.  
  
“You’re not smiling?” She asks with a small smile present on her face, evilness hiding in her shining eyes. “What’s this then?” Beca starts poking your cheeks and the laughter escapes you instantly. You hit at her hands, but she just moves them to your stomach, tickling you until air can’t find its way into your lungs anymore. You raise your hands in defeat, leaning your head against the girl’s collarbone until you’ve regained yourself.  
  
“I surrender.” You breathe out heavy as you fold your arms around the smaller girl’s neck, content with losing this battle.  
  
Beca closes the gap between the two of you with her lips biting at yours. You quickly wonder how you could have ever thought about ending this. With her lips against yours, you decide you never want this to end.  
  
However a knock on the door already does. You both look at each other with questioning faces, silently asking if the other person is expecting anyone. You can tell you both don’t. Beca shrugs, “Just ignore them”, and she moves back in. You can’t help but kiss her back, but there’s more knocking and you push Beca back a little, not enough that she moves off of you, but enough that she stops kissing you.  
  
“Uh, who is it?!” You yell, more annoyance in your voice than you usually have. Beca sighs that you let someone interrupt you, so you kiss her again quickly to let her know you’re not planning to let them in at all.  
  
“Oh, it’s me. I mean-, it’s Hannah!”  
  
Beca pulls away at that, grinning confidently with an eyebrow raised, probably asking to explain the confusion on your face. You shake your head as an answer, because you have no idea what she’s doing here.  
  
“If this is- I can come back later?” The girl behind the closed door asks.  
  
“No, just give me a sec!” You tell her with Beca still on top of you, confusion in her eyes as she’s wondering what your plan is. “Becs?” You don’t feel like she needs any more words, and she doesn’t, because she moves off of you right away.   
  
You make quick work of your hair and when you’re convinced you look somewhat decent, you find that Beca hasn’t even put on a shirt. “I know I said I’d never want you to put on a shirt, but..”  
  
“Right, your girlfriend is visiting and I must look respectable. Got it.” She winks with the same proud grin she’s been wearing since that first knock came.  
  
“She’s not my girlfriend.” You say as you head to the door, getting ready to open it.  
  
“Let’s see what she has to say and decide after that.” Beca chuckles.  
  
You wonder what Beca means, but you’ve already started to open the door and there’s no way back now. “Hannah, hi, come on in, I’m sorry about that, I was just getting dressed.” You lie harmlessly.  
  
Hannah steps inside and immediately starts to chat. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, it’s just that I was in the neighborhood and I figured I could stop by and-“  
  
The hand you’ve laid on her shoulder had gone unnoticed by you, but not by her, because she pauses instantly. “Relax, Hannah.” You laugh. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the girl like this. It’s like she’s a completely different person from the one you know in that art room. She’s so cool and chill there. Now she seems nervous. What’s causing it, you don’t know.  
  
“Right.” She smiles awkwardly. “I was just thinking maybe we could decide on when to do that dinner.”  
  
You have to do a run through your memory, but it comes back to you then. “Yes, dinner!” You say as convincing as you can. “Whenever suits you.”  
  
“Tonight?” The girl asks before you’ve even finished your sentence.  
  
“Oh, tonight I can’t. The Bellas are performing.” You state with a big smile, proud of your group of girls and the things you get to do with them.  
  
“Of course. So like, next week, maybe? Hannah speaks while fidgeting with her own fingers, probably noticing how nervous she comes across as she heads towards the door again.  
  
“Yeah, but I’ll definitely see you before that at Paul’s right?” You ask, unsure of why she came here when she could’ve just asked you when you were around the art section. You have dinner together all the time, and it’s never planned.  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, I was just in the neighborhood, so.” Hannah speaks fast. “I’ll see you around then!” She’s gone before you can even blink, her words echoing through the hallways of the dorm the only proof she was ever even there.  
  
“That was weird.” You laugh at Beca, who’s lying on her bed with her headphones on, but from the smile tucking at her lips, you know the music must’ve been at a level to which she could still hear the conversation that was going on in the room.  
  
“Looks like you got yourself a date, Beale.” Beca teases. You’d figured she would be jealous and cute like she was last time when she saw you and Hannah, but she’s all smiles and jokes. You can’t decide which version you like best.  
  
“We’re just friends, Becs. No need for you to be _jealous_.” You say mocking , taking a seat on the girl’s bed.  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself.” Beca scoffs. “But since you and your girlfriend ruined the mood, you want to hear my new track?”  
  
You spend the rest of the afternoon listening to Beca’s music on her laptop. First some of her new mixes and then just whatever she has on her playlist. You fall asleep with your head on Beca’s shoulder at some point. When you wake up, she’s still there.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
Your father being a pain in the ass has caused you to be late to your next class. Again. Thankfully it’s science and even if you had been on time, you still wouldn’t have understood a thing. Instead of paying attention to the professor, you spend your time going over history again. You’re pretty confident you’ve got this memorized, but you don’t have anything better to do anyway.  
  
The class goes by slow, but eventually you’re dismissed and you’re off to your retake. When you get to the designated room, not only is your history teacher there, but the Dean of Students, who’s name you can’t remember for the love of God, has for some reason showed up to your test.  
  
“Beca Mitchell.” The woman states, as if you don’t know your own name.  
  
You suppress the urge to roll your eyes and instead go over to shake the woman’s hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” You say with a faked smile which the woman won’t see through.  
  
The Dean explains how important this test is and some other stuff that you pretend to hear, nodding your head whenever she pauses. She tells you that she’s here to help you when you help her. For whatever reason, she’s bribing you. You’re curious to know what she has on her sleeve.  
  
“You’re saying if I do my best, go to classes, make my tests,-“  
  
“Get good grades on those tests.” The woman finishes for you with a firm voice.  
  
“-You can help me?”  
  
“Indeed. Now a little birdy told me you’re into music and mixing tracks.” The words sound wrong in the old woman’s mouth. “I could probably arrange for you to start following music classes more into that field, if you’d like.”  
  
“If I get good grades.” You correct smug, not dumb enough to fall for the woman’s techniques.  
  
“Think about it, Beca. This school is here to help you.”  
  
The woman leaves after that and you shake her words off of you, take the papers from your history teacher and sit down at your usual spot in the back, regardless of all the empty tables in the room.  
  
The test is easy as you had expected, due to the fact you studied for it all week. You hand the documents in twenty-two minutes after you had taken a seat and the professor tells you to sit back down while he checks the answers. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you take out your phone and check your unread messages. A lot are from your dad that you don’t even bother reading, a few group chats that you have yet to get out of and some people from your old school. You really don’t bother checking any of them.  
  
You’re killing time by going from app to app on your phone, until you get to the pictures. It seems Chloe’s taken it upon herself to spam your phone with ‘selfies’ of her and pictures of you together. How she managed to take them is a mystery to you, because you’ve never noticed anything. You swipe through them until you get to one in particular. It’s one of Chloe that she took herself. She’s pulling a funny face, her cheeks puffed with air and her hair all wild, but honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever seen her so beautiful. You’ve known from the first time you laid eyes on her that the girl is pretty. Now is the first time you realize just how pretty.   
  
_Pretty enough for you to get lost in a picture of her stupid face, apparently.  
_  
“Miss Mitchell!” The man calls out as if he’s been yelling your name for the past five minutes.  
  
“Oh, sorry.” You apologize, rushing to your feet to get to the front of the class.  
  
The man sighs in exhaustion, the circles under his eyes darker than his brown pupils. He hands you the papers again. “Congratulations.” He says without any emotion to it. Your eyes find the A minus written at the top of it and you skip through the pages to find a red mark or anything that would indicate what you’d gotten wrong. When you find none, you ask the man about it. “You didn’t write down your name.” He says annoyed, already going through new sets of papers.  
  
“Are you serious, man? I’m **_literally_** the only one here.”  
  
The man ignores you and you shrug it off. An A minus is better than good, so you won’t give the history professor the satisfaction of kicking you out the building. Besides, you don’t even have your usual amount of anger inside of you. Not when stupid Beale is on your mind. Damn it, she’s taking away your favorite part of yourself; the asshole part.   
  
You push your history test in your bag and head home, not caring about the rest of the classes you have today. You’ve finished your semester with A’s and B’s, which isn’t strange for the daughter of a teacher, but you’re still a little proud of yourself. High school was pretty easy for you, because you have quite a good memory and you can remember everything you read. But it’s been a while since you actually tried, so it’s good to know you can still do it, if you want to.  
  
You make it outside feeling rather good about yourself. It’s a cold day, but at least it’s dry, so you like it. The sky is covered in clouds and it’s still relatively dark for the beginning of an afternoon. You cross campus and stop at the grocery store to get a sandwich and an energy drink to down it with.  
  
You’re just thinking about stopping by the record store when you bump into a girl that’s standing like a zombie on the street. You curse under your breath as you walk around her this time, but when you don’t hear an apology or any indication of life, really, you turn to give the girl a look. She looks slightly familiar, but you can’t place her. She’s just standing there, intoxicated by whatever holds her gaze. You plan to turn around, convinced she’s a nutcase, when it hits you. The girl in the art room with Chloe. Emma? Hannah.  
  
You’re even more intrigued right now, so you look at what holds her eye. She’s standing in front of the little florist on campus, watching the different kind of flowers that are placed outside. You lean against the brick wall and open your energy drink with a huge grin on your face. You don’t know what’s going on, but you know it’ll be worth watching.  
  
Minutes go by and the girl doesn’t move from her spot on the street. A young man that works in the store comes out and asks if he can help her. He only seems slightly afraid of the girl, which makes you snort a little.  
  
“No I don’t know what kind of flowers she likes!” The girl, Hannah, yells. The boy holds his hands out and tries to calm the girl down. You think he’s asking her what the occasion is and the girl stutters through a couple of words, making it obvious that the occasion is not clear yet.  
  
You leave then, no more interest in the scene or the girl in general. You take the last couple of streets to your dorm with a slight grin on your face.  
  
Not even a room full of Bellas can take that grin off, not even when that room is _your_ _room_. Pushing Coach’ buttons is equally fun as flirting with Chloe, who is clearly liking it, but she’s quick to hide her blushing cheeks. You’re not sure why she’s not flirting back, but you will be damned if you let this opportunity fade. You don’t get a lot of chances where you can be the flirty one and Chloe is the one who’s thunderstruck, for a short moment of course, because she’s quick to catch up by the time you’re whispering in her ear.  
  
You get interrupted by a girl who’s voice you can’t really place, until she’s spilling her name from behind the closed door of you and Chloe’s room. You’re very much aware of the smirk that creates itself on your face, and you don’t bother hiding it. You’re not going to tell Chloe you saw this idiot of a girl standing in front of a flower shop for half an hour, trying to choose what flowers your stupid ginger roommate would like, but you sure as hell let Chloe see in your eyes that you know something.  
  
You put on a shirt at your roommate’s friendly request and lay down on your bed with headphones on that aren’t connected to anything. You almost break your cool when you hear what a nervous mess this Hannah girl is, but what’s even funnier is how oblivious Chloe is. The girl could have chocolate and balloons and a big sign that say “Go to Prom with me?” in her hands, and Chloe Beale would probably say something like, “totes, I love it when friends ask each other to Prom!” You can practically hear her say those words. _Damn, she’s getting inside your head_.  
  
Before you know it, the girl’s gone and Chloe’s in your bed, listening to some new tracks you made. She’s always humming along to the tune and it’s adorable, but also stupid. She messes up like, at least two times a song. She can never tell when the new beat comes in or when you crash it. What a loser, anyone can hear that, right?  
  
You click on your playlist when there’s no more new mixes to play and your hand falls between your thigh and Chloe’s resting arm. You get weird right away, because you hadn’t realized she was this close, but you also don’t really mind. To be frank, you actually kind of like feeling the little hairs on her arm brush against yours.  
  
You try to focus on the music and forget about your roommate, _your friend_ , being so close, but of course that doesn’t help when she decides to touch you. Now, she’s held your hand plenty of times and she’s also touched more skin than any other person that’s still in your live. But when you feel the back of her hand touching your knuckles, you could swear it’s the exact same feeling as when that kid in high school sucker punched you. The air leaves your body and you freeze, for just a second. You feel pretty stupid for having this reaction to a simple brush of the hands, but you’ll beat yourself up for that later. Right now, you just want to feel more.  
  
You push your hand back against hers a little and she lets you twist your wrist so that your knuckles are resting on the bed and she has better access to hold it. Yet, she doesn’t. Instead, she goes over each and every finger with hers. Her skin is soft and gentle against yours, swaying over the length of your finger to the tops and back.  
  
By the time she puts just a little strength behind her movements, pushing her index finger a little harder onto your middle one, your eyes roll back into your head and you curse yourself for being so weak to this girl’s touch.  
  
You push back against her touch and you play with each other’s finger like that for a while, until her fingers roam from yours to your palm and wrist. She stops there and by the way she’s breathing, you think she’s fallen asleep.  
  
You feel stupid. This girl is falling asleep while your body’s on fire and you’re more awake than ever. You wonder if she even noticed what she was doing. You know that she has no problem with touching, that it probably does go unnoticed by her, but it’s not so natural to you and you have no idea if what you’re feeling is normal to you. Chloe’s touched you in many ways before, friendly and sexual ways, but you’re not sure where to place this one.  
  
You tell yourself to calm down, because you’re being an idiot. Your eye falls on your friend’s hand that’s resting on your wrist. Your focus stays there as the minutes go by, until the girl next to you is moving and her head lands on your shoulder. The smell of her hits you hard enough, you have no choice but to close your eyes.  
  
(You tell yourself that as long as you don’t fall asleep, this doesn’t count as napping together.)  
  
Half an hour later, you feel movement again and your eyes snap open to watch Chloe waking up beside you. Her eyes open slowly, finding your arm underneath her hand first and then she blinks and the big, blue viewers are on you. You gulp before you’re able to smile at her.  
  
“Hey.” She says, her voice thick on sleep. “Sorry I fell asleep.”  
  
“Say that to my shirt.” You chuckle when you see the stain she’s left there.  
  
Before you’re able to move your eyes back at the girl, her lips are on yours and you get that same stupid feeling again. She really needs to stop doing that, you think to yourself while kissing her back fiercely.  
  
She smiles against your lips and you have to pull back before doing the same. You eye her for a few seconds while she does the same. “I accept your apology.” You say when you’ve found your voice again.  
  
Chloe gets up from the bed and goes through the cabinet. “I swear, you’re such a nerd. Crap, I think the girls ate everything we had.”  
  
“But when you say ‘everything’,-“ You skip out of bed and into the kitchen. “-you mean everything besides my,-“ Your eyes go through all of the cabinets until you’re certain it’s gone. “My chocolate chip cookies, of course.” You sigh defeated and Chloe places a kiss at the back of your neck before rushing into the closet.  
  
“I will get you more, I promise.” She yells.  
  
“You better.” You mumble back as you grab an apple and a Red Bull from the fridge. At least those idiots didn’t touch those.  
  
“Hey Beca, can I ask you a question?” Chloe speaks from the closet.  
  
“If I say no, would it stop you?” You say with your usual spite as you take a bite from your apple and lay down on the floor, just because you can.  
  
“Not really.” Chloe simply states as she bounces out of the closet and into the room. She doesn’t even look up when she finds you laying on the floor, she just sits down on your stomach and laughs when you breathe out heavy and in pain.  
  
“Do you have to fucking sit on my stomach?! Jesus, you’re heavier than you look, Beale.”  
  
“Don’t be mean, Becs!” She says as she shifts back and sits down on your thighs, her hands poking into your abdomen. “So I was thinking, we should do something together sometimes.”  
  
Her fingers pushing into your stomach are slightly distracting. “Like what? We already do a lot together.” You say with a wink, smirking at the girl above you.  
  
Chloe hovers over you and you prepare yourself to be kissed, but instead her lips move to your right ear. “Not that, silly.” She giggles like a kid. “I mean like a movie or something.”  
  
“I hate movies.” You manage to say before the girl’s lips crash into yours softly.  
  
“Dinner? You like food.” She says seductive as her mouth moves over your chest.  
  
“I thought you already made a dinner date with someone today.” You remember.  
  
“That wasn’t a date.” She says as her teeth bite into your neck. “ _This_ isn’t a date.” She says as if she’s only just realized that now. “Oh!” Her head snaps back up faster than you can process. "There’s this small band playing in town Sunday night. We can go to that, Becs!”  
  
You do like small bands and small settings, but something makes you wonder why Chloe’s coming up with all of this now. You shake it off, because you don’t really care and last time you went out, it was kind of fun. That’s what friends do, right? They go to clubs and go see bands together. So you agree and make out with the girl for a few minutes longer before she tells you she’s meeting Aubrey somewhere to do something; you’re not really interested. She tells you the riff-off is at ten o’clock, which seems like a strangely late time for a performance gig, but whatever. You have to meet the girls at nine thirty, Chloe reminds you.  
  
She leaves soon after and you order Mexican food, because you’re too lazy to go out and get groceries. You spend your evening with punk rock music blasting through your room and you’re feeling quite good by the time you’re heading to meet the Bellas. They’re all outside the Science building, chatting and laughing, it kind of warms your cold heart to see those losers you’ve gotten to know.  
  
Aubrey explains the rules once again, but you’re basically undressing Chloe with your eyes, so you hear next to nothing that comes out of Coach’ mouth. Your roommate seems to enjoy it, though, winking at you and running her hands over her own body as much as she can get away with without anyone but you noticing.  
  
You end up at some sketchy part of campus, what looks like an old building and an empty swimming pool in one. It’s really strange and you can’t make out what this place is. You’re gathered with your group on one side in a tiny circle, where nerves are easier to jump onto one another. You can tell, because at least half of the girls are getting nervous from Aubrey’s nervousness. Chloe seems fine, however. Chill and relaxed like she usually is.  
  
Jesse and his boys are there, too. As well as the other two a cappella groups on campus. After about ten minutes, a man walks in and asks if you’re ready. Everyone starts to scream, but you just take it in. Watching the people that are up high and seem to have come for the show. There’s more of them than during your first performance.  
  
The man’s spinning some sort of wheel and you find Jesse in the crowd. He’s telling you you’re going down and you mouth back that you don’t care. _He’s such a loser_.  
  
The wheel lands on Ladies of the 80’s and before you know it, Aubrey’s running towards God knows what, but she’s too late. Jesse and three other guys are singing “Micky”. They’re quite good and it’s actually pretty fun to watch. The Harmonics interrupt with “Like A Virgin” and then Aubrey’s finally fighting back with “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”. Or maybe anyone can cut in, you don’t know. You should’ve listened to the instructions better.  
  
The girls are all dancing and throwing fake punches, Fat Amy’s even giving some people the finger. You might like this girl best, you decide. But then this stoner comes in and gets her team dismissed and the round is over, but you’ll admit it was pretty funny.  
  
The teams all head back to their original spot and you take your chance to talk to Chloe. “So we can just pick any song that works?”  
  
“Yeah, any song.” She nods.  
  
“And you just go with it? Nice.” You state, thinking maybe if the opportunity rises, you’ll join in.  
  
“And the next category is.. Songs about sex!” The man yells.  
  
Chloe winks at you and your insides start to turn because of it, but you manage to keep a straight face and just squeeze her butt in return. Cynthia-Rose is quick to the center of the stage with Rihanna’s “S &M”, grinding into Stacie who’s joined her there, and you can’t say you’re surprised. You join your team this time, even if it’s just backing vocals, feeling a little more sure of how this game works. Chloe’s right next to you, maybe that’s a confident boost, too.  
  
Some guy from Jesse’s team cuts Stacie off with “Let’s Talk About Sex” and Aubrey has to drag her away from the spot, because the tall girl refuses to back up in defeat. You never knew that Coach could be jealous of something that innocent, but it’s clear on her face she doesn’t want that guy near Stacie and talking about sex at the same time.  
  
Stacie follows Aubrey, but they’re discussing something and soon the girl’s back in the guy’s face, singing “I’ll make love to you”, with Fat Amy backing her up. Your eye instantly moves to find Chloe, the girl who’s always dancing and this being a rather sexy song, you just have to see her moves.  
  
She’s close, but not within reach, rolling her hips as she’s singing along. You seriously want to murder Jesse for cutting in and making Chloe’s movements stop. You could watch her dance like that all day.  
  
Now Jesse’s all proud and smug singing “Feels Like The First Time”, pointing at you and his eyes hinting at Chloe. If you weren’t in such a good mood, you’d give him a better roll of the eyes and a deadly glance, but instead you come up with a better idea.  
  
A song.  
  
You wait for someone else to cut in however, but no one does. Your team seems lost. And Jesse seems too fucking smug, you decide you’re not going to let him win.  
  
You rush to make it to the center before he’s finished his sentence and you cut him off. “It’s going down, fade to Blackstreet. The homies got RB, collab’ creation.” You rap Dr. Dre’s part, but the silence behind you and actually everywhere around you is concerning. You look back to see Amy trying to come up with what part you’re at, while most of the other girls are just shaking their heads. Chloe, however, is looking at you with her big, bright eyes, her mouth open and unashamed to leave her jaw hanging.  
  
Her face is the only reason you continue rapping.  
  
Fat Amy finally joins you and Chloe follows after her. Your girls one by one start to sing along to the chorus. You let them take the front and you move back until you bump into Chloe.  
  
“I had no idea you could rap!” She yells close to your ear while dancing along to the music.  
  
You move your head to the side of hers to reply. “I have my secrets.” You breathe closer to her ear than necessary. Chloe grabs you by your jacket then and kisses you hard, her tongue’s almost immediately roaming you mouth. She doesn’t allow you to even respond properly, because she’s gone as fast as she came, dancing next to Jessica and Ashley. You cover your mouth with your hand as if that would take away the evidence, which is when you find Stacie in the crowd. She’s obviously been waiting for that, waiting until you’d see her. She’s grinning and you can’t hide the blush on your cheeks. She winks and turns back to the group as if she didn’t just watch the co-captain and the rebel of the group make out.  
  
You’re only now realizing that not only your group is singing, but the people who came to watch and even the BU Harmonics have joined in. It’s stupid how happy that makes you. You bring the girls together to end the song with a badass “we out!”.  
  
Jesse’s clapping for you, looking sincere. You think maybe he’d make a good friend after all. Your team is already celebrating when the host comes up and tells you you’re out, because of some weird grammar thing.  
  
“The Trebles win!”  
  
The guys are cheering and the girls are screaming. Even Aubrey is yelling at the man, saying she’s never heard of that rule, before she’s pulling you all back and away from the crowd.  
  
“Before everybody goes to bed tonight, I need you to make a list of all the things you did wrong.” Aubrey says serious. Fat Amy’s mumbling about killing Bumper and you can’t help but agree and laugh.  
  
“Hey guys, what we just did was great, right?” You try to cheer up the group from losing.  
  
“Calm your tits Beca, we still lost.” Coach says, which you could have expected.  
  
“Yeah, but it was spontaneous. It was awesome!”  
  
Coach cuts you off with her dumb “Ahh on three” thing that no one seems to be able to get right. You can’t believe she’s ruining this thing for the group. What you did was amazing and one of the coolest things you’ve ever done. Even if you lost. But you could’ve known winning means everything to this girl.  
  
The group splits up soon after, everyone either heading home or to a party. You see that Chloe’s still talking to her best friend, so you wait for her at the top of the empty pool with some of the High Notes smoking pot around you. You like the smell of it, but it’s been a while since you’ve smoked it yourself, so it hits you quite hard. It also doesn’t help that the smoke gets blown right into your face by this girl next to you.  
  
Chloe arrives after a few minutes and apologizes for the way Aubrey reacted after the riff-off. “I think I got her convinced that everything is good and we all had fun. And! She took back her claim of the list, so you don’t have to make that.” Chloe explains.  
  
“Wasn’t planning on it, anyway.” You say bold as you take her hands to pull you to your feet. “Ready to go?” You ask when you release your hands from hers awkwardly.  
  
Chloe just smiles at you, so you turn around to leave when the High Notes’ girl that was sitting next to you a minute ago crashes into you, all drifting and smiles. You would be mad at her, had she not been high as fuck. The girl apologizes and hands you an untouched and unlit smoke from her stash.  
  
You don’t have time to give it back, because the girl’s moved on. You turn to your friend behind you and you raise your eyebrow at her. The shock and laughter soon makes place for a devilish grin on her face and you can’t wait for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me more than 100k words for Chloe to fall for Beca, what kind of crap is this ;p But what a couple of losers, they're literally falling for each other on the same day, although Beca would never admit that ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you liked and want to see more of ! Come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm lifeisbechloe ;D


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Sometimes love isn’t fireworks, sometimes love just comes softly." - Janette Oke
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone! I know it's been like, 28 years since I updated but I'm back! You all know how it is, life gets busy, motivation gets lost. Instead of going into all that, let's just waste no more time and get to reading, yeah?

“Becs, those birds were totally staring at us, I swear! They followed us all the way home!”  
  
You don’t know how many tries it’s taken, but you’re finally able to open the door to yours and Chloe’s room. The ginger stumbles inside and catches herself just in time, only to fall to the floor laughing. You can’t help but laugh along.  
  
“Becs, I just tripped over nothing!” She pants heavy, recovering from her five minute laughter attack.  
  
“Do you really think they were watching us?” You ask her, contemplating if the birds really followed the two of you or if it were different birds every time. If they were, how did they look exactly the same? Maybe they were twins, you decide.  
  
“Who’s watching us?!” Beale shouts out, running into your arms and checking the room for whatever she believes to find. “NASA?” She whispers close to your ear.  
  
“What? No! The birds.” You speak, suppressing the urge to kiss the girl who’s suddenly inevitably close.  
  
“The birds! They must work for NASA.” Chloe says as if she’s just figured it all out. Her nodding head is proud and sure of herself. Maybe if her eyes weren’t so red, you’d consider her theory.  
  
“Beale, you’re so stoned right now.” You say with laughter in your voice.  
  
“Think about it Becs, birds can fly all the way to the moon. No one else can. NASA must have hired them. Because if birds can go to the moon for free, why would they pay people? Think about it.”  
  
_She’s got you there.  
_  
“You’re right.” You speak slow and in a whisper, coming to realize this girl has made a fair point. “We must get down to the ground.” You lip sync more than actually talk, but the girl’s eyes grow big and then she’s placing herself on the kitchen floor. You quickly sit down next to her and keep quiet for a little while, in case NASA is listening.  
  
“Do you think they’re still watching?” Chloe whispers and again her lips practically touch your skin.  
  
“NASA sees everything. But if we stay low, they will think we’re not here. They will think we’re just tiles.”  
  
Chloe starts to giggle and you don’t know why, but you start to laugh too. Soon enough, the two of you are rolling around on the floor, hands holding onto your stomachs to calm yourselves down, but loud laughter keeps filling the room.  
  
“How did we get this high from just one smoke?” You ask the girl who’s laid out on the floor next to you. Her hair is wild and her eyes are bloodshot, but you could swear she’s never looked more beautiful.  
  
“I don’t know, but I’m starving.” Chloe admits.  
  
You crawl over the floor to the kitchen cabinets, because Chloe’s yelling at you to keep low and watch out for the NASA birds. You in return throw back that if she’s going to be yelling like that, NASA will hear them from outer space. The girl doesn’t stop laughing after that. You wouldn’t ever want her to.  
  
“We only have whipped cream.” You speak when you’ve crawled back to the girl that’s still laying on her back in the middle of the room. You start shaking the can and gesture for her to stay down and keep quiet. When you bring the container to her mouth, she drops her jaw a bit. Enough for you to feed her the sweetened cream, but your roommate starts laughing almost immediately, and the content of the whipped cream can flies around the room and a large part ends up on your face.  
  
“You bitch!” You cry out in disbelieve, sitting back on your knees in shock and making no attempt to get the food off of your face.  
  
“Beca, oh my God.” The girl laughs hysterically. You feel her hands on your arms, your shoulders and then finally around your neck. “I’m so sorry! I thought I had to sneeze, but then I didn’t, but then I thought about how funny that would be and I couldn’t help but laugh!”  
  
Her hands are wiping your eyes clean, but you still can’t see anything. “I fucking hate you, Beale.” You say unconvincing, too much joy present in your voice to sound sincere.  
  
“You don’t hate me.” She replies gleeful, her fingers caressing your face soft and sweet, you almost forget you’re supposedly mad at her.  
  
You open one eye and find the girl sitting in front of you, looking cute as ever. You blow the whipped cream that’s resting on your lips towards her and she yelps out. “Now we’re even.” You state proudly, roughly wiping the stupid food off of your face and clothes with the back of your hand.  
  
“I don’t know, I was pretty harsh.” The girl speaks as she moves closer to you, pushing you back a little so you’re no longer on your knees but placed on your butt. “I think I still owe you.” Chloe says as she sits down on your lap and moves your hair out of the way. She’s biting her lip and looking straight into your eyes, you’re glad she doesn’t waste any more time connecting your lips.  
  
You doubt you could’ve handled another second without it.  
  
Chloe’s lips are soft and the smell of whipped cream is still very much present, as well as the remains on her clothes. You guess you weren’t the only one that got hit, because you feel your hands getting more and more sticky as you move them over your roommate’s body.  
  
It’s worth it, though.  
  
The girl breaks up the kiss and pushes you back until your head is resting against a kitchen cabinet. “Now we’re even.” She breathes out heavily. You watch her clumsily getting up and starting to clean the floor with her socks before she heads for her bed. You guess you have no choice but to follow her actions.  
  
You kick your shoes off of your feet and lose the scarf you were wearing to the riff-off and fall down on your bed. You have no idea what time it is, but you reckon it’s deep into the Friday night and sleeping would be the best option right now. So you pick yourself up and change into more appropriate nightwear. This time when you drop to the bed, Chloe’s on the floor in between your two beds, her hands firmly wrapped around her bedframe and it seems she’s trying to move it. “Beale, just go to sleep.” You mumble, the tiredness finally hitting you.  
  
You watch your roommate pull at the bedframe and then run around the bed and push it against your own. She jumps under the covers and turns to face you with her stupid, adorable eyes. “So if the birds come in here, I can use you as a human shield.” She explains.  
  
“How romantic.” You deadpan, turning on your back and shutting your eyes. Before you feel yourself drift away, you move your hand towards Chloe and you hook your index finger around her pinky. The last thing you hear that night is a content sigh coming from the bed next to your own.

* * *

  
“Be-caw! Be-caw!”  
  
You use up all the curse words you know while crawling angrily out of bed and towards where the only person using that name for you is calling you from. You swing the door open and push the boy across the hallway until his backs slams into the wall.  
  
“Wow, wow, I come in peace!” The boy says with a grin that annoys you even more.  
  
“Peace is hard to find when you wake me up this goddamn early.” You speak through grinned teeth and you keep the young man pinned to his place with your hands wrapped around his upper arms.  
  
“I brought breakfast?” Jesse says with a smile while shaking his hand and the bag its holding.  
  
You snatch it from him and head back inside, throwing the door closed behind you, but the boy’s got half his body past the entrance and has no problem stopping the door in its tracks to get into the room. You don’t even care anymore, because there’s bagels in the bag and they need your full attention.  
  
“I figured since the Barden Bellas had a rough night last night, I’d come and bring you and..” The boy stops speaking so you follow his glance and find two beds pushed together and Chloe in her underwear stretching and yawning. “-your _roommate_ -“ His eyes filled with glee find yours. “-some breakfast.”  
  
“That’s so nice of you, Jesse. Thank you.” Chloe says happily and still in the same spot on the bed, still wearing limited clothes.  
  
“Yeah, it’s no problem, I-“  
  
“You!” Somehow that’s all you’re able to say, but your hands are on the smug boy and he seems to get the message. “You keep your eyes on that wall.” You order while turning his body around. You check on your ginger roommate, but she seems to be enjoying this way too much.  
  
“I wasn’t even looking, I swear.” The boy explains, but he obeys and keeps his back to the both of you.  
  
“What’s up, Becs?” The girl asks you nicely when you’re standing in front of her. Somehow you’re not sure what to say to that.  
  
“What’s up? Oh, nothing. It’s just-“ You try to act casual and come up with the right way to put it. _It’s totally cool, but you’re in your underwear and I don’t want him to see you like that. Or anyone, for that matter._  
  
(Yeah, totally casual and the right way, Beca..)  
  
You can’t get anything out and instead of helping you, Chloe’s just looking at you all patient and sweet, like she’s waiting for you to screw up. _What an ass._  
  
“You know what, I’m gonna kick Jesse out.” You decide on that. That you can do.  
  
“Hey, what did I do?!” The boy whines as soon as you start to push him through the door.  
  
“Beca, relax.” The ginger giggles. “I’m gonna shower anyway. You and Jesse can hang out here if you want.”  
  
You watch Chloe grab her towel and bathroom stuff and head towards the door, still wearing nothing but a black bra and lace underwear. Normally you wouldn’t complain, -at all-, but the bathroom stalls are on the other side of the building. “Oh, you’re gonna go like that?” The words are out before you can stop them, and you know they sound possessive and disgusting, but there’s like creepy dudes here, right? And she’s your friend. And you’re looking out for her. Nothing more.  
  
“I’m a big girl, Beca. I can handle myself.” She says flirtatious, ending with a wink before the door closes behind her and it’s just you and Jesse in the room.  
  
“Oh my God, that was amazing!” The boy yelps.  
  
“Let it go, Jesse.”  
  
_He’s so not gonna let this go._  
  
“Fine. I won’t comment on the flirting. Can I comment on these two beds made into one big bed? Can I comment on you two sleeping together? In underwear? How about a comment about that whipped cream can on the floor?”  
  
_God, you hate this kid so much._  
  
You jump on your own bed and kick the other one back to Chloe’s side of the room. “We didn’t _sleep_ together, alright.” You say annoyed.  
  
Of course the boy doesn’t let go until a teasing session of approximately ten full minutes where you’ve gone from blushing to punching him repeatedly.  
  
“Why are you even here?” You say harsh and blunt, putting the bag with two more bagels away in the kitchen for your roommate when she gets back.  
  
Jesse grabs his backpack and takes out some DVDs, saying something about a movie-cation. Whatever the hell that is. There’s not much choice. Five shitty ones which you can probably all figure out after five minutes. Movies are predictable. What’s fun about that?  
  
“Just put one on and get it over with.” You sigh while the guy is giving you specifics about each and every movie, including family history on the actors and filming locations.  
  
He takes your laptop and settles down, his back against the wall and placed perfectly in the middle of your bed. You grab a Red Bull before taking a seat next to him where the boy has already started the movie.  
  
A couple of minutes in, and a thousand comments about the movie from the annoying fellow later, Chloe returns from her shower. Her wet hair and the towel around her body makes you forget all about the movie and Jesse in general. You know she’s noticed you’re staring, and you also know she loves it, judging from the slight grin on her face as she’s drying her hair in front of the small mirror in the room.  
  
You can’t _not_ look at this girl. She’s beautiful, obviously. Everyone can see that. But she’s got you hypnotized, the way she takes over by just walking into your eyesight. Your eyes follow her walking through the room and eventually disappearing into the walk-in closet.  
  
Which is when you finally remember that there’s someone else in the room and he’s severely judging you with that stupid smile of his.  
  
“What!” You groan as you turn back to see what’s happening on your computer screen.  
  
To your surprise, Jesse doesn’t say anything and just snorts a little.  
  
Minutes pass by and you’re already sick of this movie. You’re glad that Chloe appears shortly again, so you have something better to watch.  
  
“Oh, there’s bagels on the counter, Beale.” You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, but you see Jesse shaking his head with a wide grin, so you doubt you succeeded.  
  
She thanks you for not eating everything and she thanks Jesse for bringing it over. “So, what are you two watching?” Chloe asks as she lets herself fall down on the bed, landing pretty much on your lap.  
  
“The Breakfast Club!” Jesse answers quick. “1985. Greatest ending to any movie ever. The song launched Simple Minds in the US. Could have been a Billy Idol song, but he turned it down. Idiot. Perfectly sums up the movie. It’s equally beautiful and sad.”  
  
“Interesting.” Chloe nods. “I thought you didn’t do movies, Becs?” She asks, lightly poring your ribs with her elbow.  
  
“I don’t.” You complain. “They’re boring and I never make it to the end.”  
  
“What? Endings are the best part!” Jesse yells out, as if that would convince you.  
  
“They’re predictable, like the guy’s gonna get the girl and that’s it.” You throw back.  
  
“That’s not _it_. You just have to watch it and you’ll love it, okay?”  
  
“Not to give anything away, but I won’t.” You say smug to annoy the boy next to you.  
  
“Well as much fun as it is to watch you two bicker back and forth, I’m going to meet the girls. Becs, remember practice, please.” Chloe speaks as she gathers her stuff and heads for the door. “See you soon, Jesse!”  
  
“Definitely, Chlo!” He replies before the door shuts and it’s just the two of you again. Of course the comments start right back up, about how you were drooling over her from the moment she walked in and how you were being way too nice.  
  
First of all, you didn’t drool. You just like, stared a lot. Not the same thing!  
  
Second, you weren’t even nice. You just said the food was in the kitchen, that’s all. No niceness.  
  


* * *

  
You survive the movie and Jesse’s comments somehow without murdering the cocky boy. He leaves soon after, claiming he has some sort of magic rehearsal with his roommate. You don’t even dare to ask questions about that. He says the movie-cation will continue next time, which reminds you to never again let him into your room.  
  
You change into workout clothes for Bellas practice that starts in half an hour. You quickly text Chloe where she is before heading out. She replies she’s already in the gym, setting things up. You try not to think about Jesse’s teasing when you pass by Starbucks and actually head inside this time to grab your roommate a coffee.  
  
You know she will question your motives, but you also know she’ll take the drink either way. Whether you give her an explanation or a shrug as an answer. Right now, like most times, a shrug is all you have.  
  
Your way to the gym has become routine for you. That’s something you didn’t think was possible. You had figured you’d be gone long before that would happen. Quitting the group, Aubrey kicking you out or on your way to LA seemed like the only options up until a few weeks ago. Now you could be blindfolded and spun around and you’d still find that stupid gym.  
  
The truth is that quitting has no longer become an option. You’re not sure exactly when that happened, but you couldn’t imagine leaving that group of losers out of your own free will. There is, and probably always will be, the option that Aubrey kicks you out, however she said she wouldn’t, at least not right now. You can’t really read her, but you think she has no trouble breaking that promise if you pushed her more than you already do.  
  
And then of course there’s LA. There will always be LA. All your dreams and wishes lay there. But for now, you’re going to try this college thing and see if it works out. LA will always be there and leaving is the easiest thing to do. You can do it today, tomorrow, three weeks from now. That means you can also do it at the end of the year when it’s clear you’ve failed the college expectations, or years from now when miraculously you’ve succeeded.  
  
You honestly have no idea which one it’s going to be, but you’re willing to try. You’ll try and you’ll see what happens. That’s all you know right now.  
  
You enter the building feeling a strange kind of pride for yourself for trying. It’s kind of overwhelming, so you don’t notice the amount of noise coming from the gym and how that couldn’t possibly be produced by just your roommate.  
  
You walk into a room full of Bellas with a violently hot cup of coffee in your hands. Of course they have to pick this day on which they’re on time for a chance.  
  
“Hey Beca Mitchell, the big B.M., I thought you didn’t drink coffee?”  
  
Fat Amy yells at you from across the room, but somehow your eye gets drawn to Stacie. You almost forgot she witnessed you and Chloe casually make out last night, but you’re reminded by the way her smile rests easily on her lips.  
  
You choose to just ignore everyone, since that’s your number one move for most things in life. You cross the floor and press the hot drink in your roommate’s hands quickly and continue your pace to the bleachers to ditch your jacket. You hear the girls whistling and shouting behind you, so you roll your eyes excessively to show your annoyance.  
  
“Thanks Becs.” Chloe says happily as she sips her drink. You suddenly don’t care anymore about what the girls think, as long as this girl is happy. “How was your date with Jesse?” She asks teasing.  
  
“Date?!” You laugh out. “Well, I guess that’s correct since I considered suicide at least six times.” You speak with joy in your voice as your roommate cracks up. “I mean, that’s what dating is right?”  
  
“I wouldn’t write dating off like that too soon, Becs. Remember we have plans tomorrow.” Chloe flirts as she heads towards the group.  
  
“Wait, what?” You say a little too loud, making a few of the girls turn their heads.  
  
“The band tomorrow. Did you forget?”  
  
You didn’t, but her calling it ‘dating’ or ‘a date’ kind of threw you off.  
  
The practice starts off with Aubrey lecturing everyone and telling the group what needs to improve for the Regionals. She makes you guys run for at least an hour while she just stands there and orders people around. At least Beale does laps like everyone else, although you think that has less to do with team spirit and more with the fact that she kind of likes running. _What an idiot_.  
  
Even Fat Amy is doing her runs vertically, that’s how tough Aubrey is being today and she’s not allowing any goofing around. Of course Fat Amy wouldn’t be Fat Amy if she wasn’t at least a little rebellious, so she’s doing her laps backwards, which she of course can’t do running, so she’s basically walking the entire time.  
  
That girl is something else, you think to yourself.  
  
After what feels like days of running, Aubrey moves onto the dancing part of practice. If you thought she was gonna ease things up after a workout like that, you were mistaken. Girls drop to the floor and you try to remember what the signs were for having a stroke or a heart attack, but you’re too exhausted to even think.  
  
Chloe finally speaks up when Lilly and Jessica bump into each other and Lilly’s nose starts to bleed from impact. “That’s it, practice is over. We’ll continue tomorrow.”  
  
“Aca-cuse me, but who are you to call that?”  
  
“Co-captain, in case you forgot.” Chloe shoots back and you can’t, and won’t, stop the smile spreading across your face. You feel a weird kind of emotion shooting through your body.  
  
“It’s okay, I like blood.” Lilly mummers.  
  
“That’s disturbing.” Ashley comments.  
  
“See? She’s fine, let’s take it from the start.” Aubrey orders as she replays the song, but Chloe shuts it down right away which leads to the girls taking turns in hitting the audio player; play, pause, play, pause. “Chloe, what do you think you’re doing!”  
  
“I’m calling it! The girls have been on the verge of passing out and now there’s one bleeding. So we are going to continue tomorrow, unless you want to risk everyone getting injured in which case we won’t even be qualified for the Regionals.”  
  
Aubrey seems like a mixture of mad because Chloe’s making a decision, and angry because she’s right, and it kind of looks like a volcano that’s growing in size that’s about to explode. But then the girl breathes and tells the group we’re picking up right here tomorrow. The relief is present in the group and everyone tries to get out of the gym as soon as possible, but Stacie won’t let them.  
  
“How about we all go out for dinner tonight?” She offers to a group who remains fairly quiet. “Aubs, Chlo? You two in?”  
  
_You knew this girl was smart, but that’s an understatement. Damn, this girl is clever.  
_  
Aubrey and Chloe agree and even hug it out while the group yells out in enthusiasm and just like that, under five minutes of the fall out, everyone seems to be okay and all is forgiven. You guess you’re going out for dinner with these nerds tonight.  
  
The girls leave the gym one by one and you spend a little more time grabbing your things than necessary, aware that Aubrey and your friend are finishing up a conversation. “You need a few more minutes, Beale?” You ask when you pass the two of them on your way out.  
  
“No, that’s okay, Becs. I’m right behind you.”  
  
You nod and head out the door, leaving the two of the girls to themselves. Outside, the sun is up and if it weren’t for the freezing cold wind, you’d forget it’s winter. You take a seat on a small brick wall in front of the building and watch the people passing by. It’s crazy how crowded it is on a Saturday afternoon. You spot people studying on the field, some guys are playing football and a few couples walking hand in hand around campus.  
  
You guess this place isn’t the worst.  
  
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Chloe apologizes as she and Aubrey come out of the building and heading towards you.  
  
“That’s alright. Everything cool?” You ask cautiously, watching both your roommate and Aubrey’s face.  
  
“Totes!” Chloe yelps out and she looks genuine, but Aubrey has a kind of annoyed look on her face. Maybe not annoyed. Doubting, perhaps. “So we’ll see you tonight for dinner, Aubs?”  
  
“Yes, tonight.” Aubrey agrees and her eyes land on you. You give her this weird combination of a shrug and a nod when you turn around and Chloe follows your pace. “Oh, Chlo! You up for coffee?”  
  
Chloe looks at you as if you suddenly make decisions for her now. “What?” You say with fake annoyance and too much joy in your voice. “Go get your fancy caffeine, Beale. I’ll see you tonight.” You push the giggling girl against her best friend, making attempts to head back to your dorm and maybe mix a little.  
  
“Actually, Beca.. Would you like to join us?”  
  
You really would rather not. There is nothing you would want **_less_** than having coffee with your roommate, whom you’ve made a deal with to have platonic sex with in exchange for you joining her little glee club, and her evil best friend. You would rather not. You would rather get hit by a bus. And you were about to say just that, but you found Chloe’s eyes and they looked so surprised and happy at the same time, you can’t really blame your mouth for agreeing to go.  
  
Whatever, how bad can it be, right? You definitely could use some warming up and those hot chocolates are pretty good. And if it makes the girl so stupidly happy..

* * *

 

 

* * *

  
“Sure, why not?” Beca answers and you have to hold back a cheerful shout. You can’t believe your best friend is actually trying, for the first time, to connect with Beca. It might just be coffee, but it’s quite a big deal for you.  
  
You just hope they won’t start a fight in the middle of Starbucks.  
  
The walk to the coffee shop is a little awkward, but you’re steering the conversation and you get both Aubrey and Beca to communicate a little. They might be two completely different people, you know there’s one thing they have in common.  
  
Music.  
  
“Aub, did you know that Beca made a mix from You Can’t Hurry Love?” You pitch as you all enter the Starbucks and take a seat in the middle of the room.  
  
“The Supremes?”  
  
“Did you think I’d mix Phil Collins?”  
  
“Well I don’t know, you look like the kind of girl who wouldn’t like originals, Beca.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
You shouldn’t have them placed in front of one another. That makes it all but easy to start an argument. “Beca does like originals, Aubs. But she adds different aspects to it to make it better. You should hear her-”  
  
“Originals shouldn’t be touched. You don’t take a Picasso and _‘add different aspects’_ to it, do you now?”  
  
“You do if it makes it better.” Beca speaks through grinned teeth, which is step one in her book of ‘How To Make No Friends and Kill All The People’.  
  
“Really, Beca? You think **_you_** can make a Picasso better?”  
  
“I didn’t fucking say that, but-“ Cursing and hands turning into fists is step two and three.  
  
“Okay!” You say as you rise out of your chair. “I’m not a kindergarten teacher, I’m not gonna do this all the time. Aubrey, you asked her along. Beca, you said yes. Now act like adults while I get us drinks, or you can go home.”  
  
You’re quite proud of yourself as you walk away from the table and get in line. A nice guy says you can go before him and you gladly take his spot with a friendly thank you and a wink. People should wink more often, you think to yourself.  
  
You don’t check up on the girls immediately, but when you’re next in line and you hear a loud noise coming from where your friends are, you immediately think the worst. When you look over, you see that a woman at a table in the back has dropped her cup. Aubrey and Beca both raise their hands in innocence when they see your startled face. You burst out in laughter and your two friends placed a few feet away do the same. You see Beca mumbling something and you wish you could hear what, but the barista lets you know you can order and you have no choice but to let it go.  
  
You return to the table with two large Mocha Frappuccino’s and a white hot chocolate for Beca and, to your surprise, the two girls haven’t killed each other yet.  
  
“Extra milk, two sugar, coconut.” You state as you put the drink in front of Aubrey. “And for you, the most chocolate chip in it they would allow me.” You haven’t even put it down yet or Beca’s hands are clasped around it.  
  
You spend approximately an hour in the coffee shop with your best friend and your newest friend. You could lie and say after your little outburst forcing them to act like adults, everything went smooth, but no one would believe that. Almost every topic that gets brought up, either or both of them challenges the other to an argument. There’s arrogant scoffing and mumbled curse words, but they both let it go eventually.  
  
It’s nowhere near perfect, but they’re trying. That’s good enough.

* * *

  
Stacie recommends a burger restaurant a few blocks away from campus, so you all walk together that way. You’re not seated near Beca, but you get to watch her finish that burger in three bites and when you laugh from the other side of the table, Beca somehow knows it’s got something to do with her and mouths “what?!” with half a burger still stuffed in her mouth.  
  
It only makes you laugh harder.  
  
You’re just walking around after dinner when you come across a small ice skating place. You pay five bucks to get in and spend your evening falling, dancing and laughing on ice. You would say half the group is able to handle themselves on ice. There’s Beca and Ashley who are acting like a couple of hockey players, racing each other from end to end of the slippery orbit. Then you have Jessica, Fat Amy and Cynthia-Rose who are goofing around to hide the fact they can’t skate. You’ll admit, watching Amy practicing her mermaid dancing and the two girls trying to reenact her movements is super hilarious.  
  
Then there’s Stacie who looks like an angel, the way she moves so smoothly over the ice, most times with only one figure skate touching the frozen water. Aubrey tries to keep up with her, but she keeps falling and blaming it on her skates. When you see her crawling towards the exit, Stacie lifts the girl up to her feet and they start to slow dance on the ice, Stacie’s hands resting on your best friend back for support. You feel happiness looking at the two of them.  
  
Then of course there’s you and Lilly who are just casually skating around in circles. That is until there’s a voice speaking through a microphone who announces the Dancing On Ice night begins and there’s music escaping the speakers, which of course gets Lilly beatboxing and you dancing crazily to it.  
  
Soon enough, the rest of the group joins you to dance. Well, Aubrey is just hanging around your neck, telling you to save her from this madness. You know she secretly likes it.  
  
You spot Beca and Ashley heading your way as well, only a little faster than the rest did and it doesn’t seem like they’re slowing down. The group notices as well and they all start screaming dramatically, but Beca and Ashley pull their skates sideways to come to a hard stop right in front of everyone, making the blades scrape through the ice with proud grins.  
  
“You didn’t think I’d crash into you, did you, Beale?” The girl who landed right in front of you seems to be enjoying herself tonight.  
  
“Having fun?”  
  
“Well, I’ve been kicking Ashley’s ass all night so, yeah.” Beca says a little too hard for it to just be for your ears.  
  
“Once, Mitchell! You got me once!” Ashley yells back.  
  
Beca starts laughing and her breathing is fast, but you think she’s okay. You think she is in fact having fun. You start to skate away and you’re glad she’s picked up the hint and follows you. You try to beat her in a race, but the small girl is way too fast for you. Winning is one thing, but rubbing it in your face goes too far, so you trip your arrogant friend who falls down immediately.  
  
“Not cool, Beale!” She’s back on her feet in no time, so you don’t really feel bad about it.  
  
You do a couple laps with Beca next to you, just skating and talking. Each time you pass your group of friends, there’s whistling and kissing sounds made, making Beca roll her eyes more excessively every time. You just think it’s funny how easily she can be annoyed, which is exactly why the girls are doing it.  
  
Beca and you join the rest of the group after a while, just when Since U Been Gone comes blasting through the speakers. The group yells out in excitement and you immediately grab the smaller girl with both hands; you can tell by her face she knows what you’re thinking.  
  
“We’re not dancing to this, Beale.” She states annoyed and firm, as if she already knows she’s going to lose.  
  
You don’t even have to convince her. You just start dancing on your own, touching Beca lightly every so often until her hands move your way on its own. And it’s not like the girls have it in them to mock, because you’re all moving to the beat.  
  
Beca obviously doesn’t know how to move to this, but she’s slowly sliding along with her one hand in yours. She uses that to spin you around a few times, guiding your body in the way she wants. You act a little more clumsy than you actually are to justify bumping into her or to feel her other hand on you as well.  
  
The music continues and your friends one by one trade the cold ice for a hot drink by the bar. Beca and yourself are the last ones standing, which is surprising, because you thought she’d be the first one to get bored of this.  
  
 “Not tired of this yet?” You ask the girl sliding over the ice next to you.  
  
Beca shakes her head lightly. “I used to play minor ice hockey when I was like ten or something.” The girl admits. “I didn’t think I would still be able to skate a little.” She laughs.  
  
You express excitement and Beca tells you about the tournaments she played and how she broke her first bone because of that sport. You listen to the words your new friend decides to share with you, patient and grateful for every single one of them.

* * *

  
“Finally!” Cynthia-Rose yells when Beca and you join the girls at the bar.  
  
“Yeah, I’m taking off, guys!” Beca says and immediately receives hugs from the girls.  
  
“It was a pleasure beating you, Mitchell! Until next time!”  
  
“Have fun tonight, eyeline-monster.”  
  
“DJ the shit out of them, Beca!”  
  
You tell the girls you’re going to walk Beca out and you follow your friend out into the cold night. “You excited?” You ask through chattering teeth.  
  
“Yeah, it’s weird not being there every night, you know? It’ll be good to see Kev and everyone again.” Beca answers as she Googles the route to the club.  
  
“Are you gonna walk?”  
  
Beca explains it’s just a few blocks away and actually a bit closer than her normal route from campus. She makes preparation to leave, so you move in to kiss her lips, because you had a good night with the girl and you simply want to.  
  
The girls have decided to continue the night somewhere else, so you head back towards the bar on campus. There’s a fair amount of people there already, but Stacie and you charm a couple of guys in the back to make some room for you. Stacie even gets them to buy the first round of drinks. You’re not even surprised.

* * *

  
Sunday morning is mostly slept away. You go by the art section of college and spend the first half of your afternoon there, working on a new project and chatting with Hannah. The second half is spend in the gym, training for the Regionals.  
  
Beca proposes to go eat at a fast-food restaurant on the way before going to see the band, but you don’t think your body can take any more of that filth. It’s been a rough week. So you stop at the supermarket and grab a couple of sandwiches. Beca finishes hers in under a minute, while it takes you the entire walk towards the setting.  
  
It’s a kind of bar, but there’s a stage and a big enough floor to allow the crowd to dance. You and Beca hang around the bar first, since the band won’t start playing for at least another hour.  
  
“So what did you do while I was passed out today?” Beca asks with the straw from her drink moving between her teeth as she talks.  
  
“Nothing much, I went to work on my art project, actually.”  
  
“Ah, so you had a date with your girlfriend?” Beca speaks with joy present in her voice, but you don’t seem to get the joke. She must see your confusion, because she rolls her eyes before continuing. “Hannah was there, was she not?”  
  
“Yes, but-“  
  
“She likes you, Beale. Wake up.” Beca chuckles proudly while her eyes examine the bar and the people in it.  
  
“Don’t get all jealous on me, Becs. She’s just a friend.” You reply with a wink and a nudge of your knee against hers.  
  
“Jealous?” The dark haired girl is quick to meet your eyes. “Let me ask you this. How many times did she mention your dinner plans? Six, seven times?”  
  
You’re forced to think back and she did mention it a few times. She seemed anxious to just decide sometime this week and insisted on choosing a day, but that doesn’t say anything. Perhaps she just likes to have things planned out.  
  
“Oh my God, she totally did!” Beca shouts out in glee.  
  
“Not six or seven times!” You try to reason, but Beca’s already ecstatic.  
  
“She probably suggested tonight and you had to let her down.”  
  
You wish you had a better poker face, but Beca sees right through it and starts laughing even louder. You didn’t _let her down_. You just couldn’t tonight. You’ve had dinner with the girl plenty of times before, you don’t see why this would be different.  
  
“Well, I’m sorry, Beale. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be on a date with an art chick right now.”  
  
You can’t imagine yourself going on an actual date with Hannah. Definitely not if it takes away time you could spend with Beca. To be frank, you wouldn’t want to be with anyone else but Beca right now. The way she’s mocking you almost brings tears of laughter into her eyes and she seems so loose and free and, _happy_. So different from when you first met her. Sure, her shoulders are still tensed, her jaw still clenches when someone comes too close, her hands still turn into fists every now and then and she’s still a hurricane.  
  
But she wouldn’t be Beca if she wasn’t.  
  
And you like her on both ends of the spectrum. You like her like this, but you also like her screaming and fighting.  
  
That’s how you know you’re screwed.

* * *

  
The band starts and you immediately drag Beca with you onto the dance floor. She complains, of course, as if you just came here to drink and hang by a bar.  
  
The band plays great and the lyrics are good as well. The music has a feeling of early pop rock to it, but there’s some electronic beats through the songs as well. It’s nowhere near the music Beca listens to, or makes herself, just a lighter version. It makes it perfect to dance to.  
  
Your crush might not be the best technical dancer of the Bellas, or the best dancer in this room right now, yet you doubt any of them could capture your eye like Beca does. Her moves come naturally and it’s mesmerizing. You’re glad it’s just the two of you and you don’t even have to try to stop staring at the gorgeous girl. It helps that she’s staring right back. It makes it even easier to send her winks and watch her grin in return.  
  
It is a little different, however. You’re holding back, you know that. If you didn’t like her, you probably would have been more flirtatious or made a move right about now. Something’s holding you back and you wish that you wouldn’t feel this way so everything would be fine and the deal would still be intact.  
  
And maybe it can still go back to that. It’s just a crush, right? Adoration, even. And your best friend’s right; that always gets boring after a while. You’re sure this is all temporarily and Beca doesn’t even have to know. You know she’ll run as far as her tiny legs can take her if you tell her you _like_ her.  
  
Beca couldn’t handle that and you can’t handle losing her. You’re already dangerously aware that she has no problem with fleeing, so you’re definitely not going to give her a reason to.  
  
The band takes a break and you take this chance to swallow your doubts deep down and go with what you would do if there were no feelings involved. Beca startles when you grab her by the jacket, but her mouth is ready and open when you press your lips onto hers, so how surprised could she have been, really?  
  
Your friend pulls your bodies together and it takes everything from you to break up the kiss.  
  
“I’m gonna get us some drinks.” Beca says before heading towards the bar, leaving you in the middle of the dimmed room with strange people around you and strange feelings inside of you.  
  
 You really don’t want to think about this right now and just enjoy your night, but that gets hard to do when Beca comes back with drinks and stands even closer to you than before.  
  
You wish Aubrey was here to tell you what to do. Although, you can guess what she’d say. She’d tell you to cut off this deal or at the very least spend less time with the girl. She’s your roommate, yes, but you do a lot of things together which is not helping your case. And maybe that’s what you should do. Maybe that’s what you will do.  
  
Starting tomorrow, because right now Beca is dancing and standing way too close for you to make any rational decisions. Right now, you only have decisions based on craving, which is why you reach out.  
  
  
You’ll go for rational decisions tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! Let me know as usual what you think. I have no idea when I'll be back, but let's hope it's quicker than last time ;) Thanks for reading and come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm lifeisbechloe ;D


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within." -Sigmund Freud
> 
> /

The weekend has flown by and before you know it, you find yourself sitting in the Monday morning nine a.m. Russian Lit class. Well, physically, you’re there. Your mind is with Beca who’s probably sleeping through her first five classes again, since she’s caught up on all her tests and exams. She sure has her ways to surprise you, because you never thought she’d be able to do that with the limited time she had to take in the subjects and all she was required to know.  
  
And she didn’t just _pass_ those exams. She conquered them. You believe her lowest rate was a B minus. You wonder if growing up with a dad that’s a professor has anything to do with that. Although from what Beca’s told you, which isn’t all that much, they’ve never really been that close. So you have trouble picturing the two of them sitting around the kitchen table and going over calculations.  
  
Perhaps Beca taught herself, because she’s stubborn and wanted to show her dad she didn’t need his profession. That sure seems like the girl, you think to yourself. But then again, the little, auburn-haired woman respects her father enough to enroll in college at his request, even when enroll was all she did at first.  
  
Somehow, you’re able to see through your roommate. You know she acts all tough and badass, but you think it’s mostly to keep people out, which you’re not judging. If you were to judge at all, it would be the people who let that stop them from getting to know this great person that you’re glad you can call your friend now.  
  
Because Beca cares.  
  
In her own way, of course. But she does. She wants her dad to be proud of her. She wants a connection with him, you reckon. Because losing your mom like that is one thing, but to lose your father, too. And then seeing him around, coming in and out of your life, after losing him.. You can’t imagine what that’s like.  
  
It’s a good thing Beca is so tough and armored you decide. How else would she survive all of that if she wasn’t?  
  
You’ve had it fairly easy growing up. Of course you’ve had ups and downs, like everyone else. But your parents are still together, you have a great and happy family and even your family dog, Rufus, that’s been around since you were seven, so pretty much all of the life you can remember, is still alive.  
  
One thing you can honestly say is that you’re proud of Beca. Proud she’s making an effort. Proud she finished her exams and passed them all. Proud she’s come such a long way.  
  
You go to your next three classes that day, but Beca stays on your mind no matter which classrooms you enter. And it’s easy. You could spend the entire day thinking about your tiny friend, because there’s just so much about the girl to admire. You still want to know everything about her, and you get closer to that by the day, because she is letting you in, however slow.  
  
And you start to realize that maybe you’ve been wrong all along. You told yourself when you started to get to know Beca, there’d be a day where she’s told you everything and you’ve seen all her faces, know exactly what makes her flinch, when her jaw clenches and how her eyes look when she’s angry, that somehow you would have figured her out and you could just walk away. But now you don’t believe that day could ever come. You could never stop figuring her out and you could never see yourself walking away because you know everything there is to know.  
  
That thought scares you, to say the least.  
  
Because you’ve accepted this feeling, this thing that makes you smile the moment you see the girl, this thing that lays heavy at your chest when you kiss her, and that makes your insides welter when you’ve caught her staring, this thing you hate and also don’t want to go one day without anymore, as a crush. But the fact that you don’t ever want to stop figuring her out would imply that it’s not just a crush.  
  
When you think of a crush, the first thing that comes to mind would be infatuation. Craving. Wanting to be close to someone. Intense. And you feel all that, but there’s so much more.  
  
But more is not something you allow yourself to think about.  
  
The thought alone frights you, but it’s also helpful, because now you know you were right last night. It’s time for rationality and distance, because you two spend a lot of time together. So from now on, you’ll see her in your shared room and of course Bellas practices. That has to be it. No more dates.  
  
(Thought you said it wasn’t a date, Chloe?)

* * *

  
Three thirty and you’re finally released from classes. Your neck is sore and your muscles ache, so you shoot your best friend a text to see if she’s up for a workout before practice, but she replies saying she has zero time for anything other than her science project. It must be important, because Aubrey wouldn’t cancel on Bellas practice so close to Regionals, if ever, really. But it’s nothing you can’t handle on your own.  
  
You head to your dorm and you’re relieved to find an empty room. You ditch your books and trade your outfit for a legging and a pink tank top. Of course you regret that the moment you step outside and feel the cold wind against your skin. You use that as motivation to run faster instead of going back to the room for actually pants.  
  
You run across campus and Beca stays on your mind. You wonder where she is, what she’s doing, if she’s complaining about the thing she’s doing. That pretty much goes without saying, though. What she’s wearing, if she’ll be on time for practice, if she’ll murder you when you make her run as much as Aubrey would. That also goes without saying, you think as a smile spreads across your face.  
  
It’s not fair this girl doesn’t even have to try or physically be around for her to make you smile.  
  
_This whole ‘getting distance’ thing is going to be harder than you thought._  
  
A lot harder, you realize when you see Beca Mitchell enter the gym wearing grey sweats and one of her black band shirts.  
  
You’re already starting to feel your fingertips crave her touch, but you’re restraining yourself from going over, because she’s only been inside the same room as you for less than twenty seconds and for Heaven’s sake, you can’t cave that quickly.  
  
You decide to start the class without further ado.  
  
“Alright girls, Aubrey won’t be here today so-“  
  
You don’t even get any further, because the group is cheering and high-fiving. Everyone except Stacie, who seems rather neutral and indifferent about the whole scenario.  
  
“Does this mean no cardio?” Your roommate and friend, but definitely nothing more than that, asks with a smile as grand as the fire it lights inside of you. _A smiling Beca is so not helping your case at the moment_.  
  
“Yeah Red, let’s just discuss outfits or something!”  
  
“Oh you girls wouldn’t believe it, I have the best and sexiest outfit idea for Regionals.” Stacie speaks for the first time that afternoon.  
  
“I think we would all believe that.” Cynthia-Rose says matter-of-factly.  
  
The room fills with agreed hums and casual “oh yeah definitely” and you have to speak up in order for the girls to hear you. “Ladies, Regionals is this Friday and we are not nearly performance ready. We have The Sign and Eternal Flame pretty much figured out, but we haven’t practiced Turn The Beat Around with Amy’s solo yet. We can’t waste this day just because Aubrey isn’t here. There’s plenty to do.”  
  
“So we’re going to practice the new choreography?” Beca asks hopeful.  
  
“Unfortunately not. We’re going to do that when Aubrey is here, but we’re gonna make sure the other two are perfect!” You clap your hands to get the girls excited, but it’s not nearly working. They all look down and disappointed, which is now completely to blame on you. You tell them they only have to do ten laps, but that doesn’t cheer them up as much as you had hoped.  
  
The dancing goes fine and you give them all compliments and allow more breaks than possibly ever in the history of Bellas practice.  
  
“What am I doing wrong?” You ask pouting as you sit down next to Beca on the floor by the water bottles.  
  
She looks at you for a few seconds before a smile forms. “You’re trying too hard.” She states and doesn’t attempt to further explain as she brings a bottle to her lips and gulps down the content.  
  
“Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” You don’t understand and you don’t think you know how to try less hard. Beca just laughs and hands you a bottle, which you take. “I’m the worst captain ever.” You sigh dramatically.  
  
Half the girls come back from a bathroom break and Beca rises to her feet as well. She stretches and waits for you to follow, but you stay on the ground in defeat, so she takes your hands in hers and pulls you up. “Just remember, the best bosses are hated by their staff.” Beca says nonchalant before heading back to her spot within the group.  
  
“But Beca, I don’t want to be hated!” You whine and it makes her laugh and shrug, but doesn’t offer any more help.  
  
Aubrey told you not to start Turn The Beat Around without her, but it’s almost Friday and it’s not like the girls haven’t sung that song before. It’s just a different repertoire. Perhaps you can just practice the singing part of the song. You don’t see any harm in that.  
  
The girls are immediately more enthusiastic and it warms your heart to see the girls smiling and cheerful again. You hand out lyric sheets and Beca winks at you when your fingers brush against each other. You wonder when Beca got more comfortable with things like that.  
  
The song doesn’t go that well and Amy’s solo needs so much improving, but the girls are having fun and you think maybe they deserved that after the first half of the practice. You have to be strict a few times though, which is not your favorite thing, but if you wouldn’t, the group would mess around too much.  
  
“Stacie, think you can decrease the boob grabbing to ten times maximum?”  
  
“Fat Amy, goofing around is fine, but please don’t forget to actually sing, okay?”  
  
“Beca, keep your attention here and lose the attitude, please. You’re tired, you don’t want to be here, we get it.”  
  
The group seems to like that last one, because they’re all acting like you just scolded her or something. Cynthia-Rose is even running around, screaming “oh no, she did not just say that! Oh shit!”  
  
You find the scene quite amusing, but feel the need to check Beca for any misconceptions. As soon as you find her face in the crowd, you know there’s no need to. Her mouth is opened, probably in shock, but she’s smiling wide, her teeth even showing, and her eyes are glued to you.  
  
“Yes, captain.” Beca speaks firm, straitening her back and giving her full attention, exaggerated, to you.  
  
The word _captain_ pulls at your heart strings and you nod at the girl to let you know you appreciate it.  
  
The rest of the practice goes by a little bit smoother, leaving you quite satisfied with the singing part. You’ll have no doubt the girls can learn the choreography to the song and blow the people at Regionals away.  
  
You let the girls know Aubrey demanded an extra practice at eight tomorrow morning, to which everyone complains, but you know they understand it’s necessary. The girls leave in parts until it’s just you and Beca left in the gym.  
  
She helps you with gathering the few attributes that were used and says you did good today, her voice as indifferent as she can make it sound.  
  
You move towards where she’s putting on her jacket near the bleachers and slide your body into her personal space. “Yeah, sorry I had to call you out like that.” You whisper against the back of her neck. You aren’t touching the smaller girl, but you can feel her flinch and freeze on the spot, for just a few seconds. You doubt that will ever change.  
  
She turns around to meet your eyes eventually. “Did it look like I mind?”  
  
You bite your lip in consideration, knowing what that does to the girl in front of you. “Not really.” You decide, following how her eyes take note of every action you make as you step closer. “I think maybe you even liked it.”  
  
Beca automatically steps back, failing to remember that the bleacher are right behind her, so she trips awkwardly and lands her butt on one of the wooden benches. She looks like a deer caught in headlights when you place your legs on either side of her, but she puts her hands on your hips to guide you onto her, which is more you can say she’s done in the past few weeks. Usually it takes her a while to make contact.  
  
You’re waiting for her to make another flirty comment, but it doesn’t look like the girl’s going to find her voice any time soon, so you chuckle and run your hands through her hair. “You’re so easy, Becs.” You breathe against her lips, letting your eyes linger over her chest, arms and neck, utterly aware that she’s watching you.  
  
“I’m not easy.” She manages to say, but it doesn’t sound very convincing, and you think Beca knows it.  
  
“You’re not?” You whisper as you move your face towards the girl’s neck, kissing softly and sometimes barely even touching her skin. But the girl shivers and leans into it, turning her head so you’d have better access. Instead of taking that opportunity, you lean back and there’s not even words needed to make your statement.  
  
Beca grunts and clenches her jaw before speaking. “You’re a fucking ass, you know that?”  
  
And maybe you would contemplate that statement, if her mouth wasn’t on you the second after she’s finished insulting you. It’s obvious she’s trying to act anything but easy, but all it takes is one roll of your hips into her lap and she’s weak again.  
  
You could do this forever, you have no doubt about that. Kissing Beca is so simple. It’s weird to think you’re able to work your mouths so in sync when you’ve only been doing this for a couple of weeks. It helps that you’re both great kissers, you decide.  
  
For a split second, you curse yourself for spending the entire day deciding to put space between you and this girl, when you’re now literally pushing your tongue past her barriers. And maybe you’d spend more than a split second thinking about how stupid you are, had Beca not hummed into your mouth before sucking on your tongue and preventing you from having any thoughts at all from that moment on.  
  
Your bodies are already pressed together, but you just want to be closer to the girl. Skin on skin, feel her everywhere. You plan to make that happen, but the door of the gym gets thrown open and the basketball players enter the building. You’re off Beca in no time and the girl looks flustered.  
  
“They didn’t see anything, Becs. Relax.” You giggle as you grab your bag and wait for Beca to make attempts to get out of the gym, but she’s frozen in place it seems. Her hands move to fix her hair and her fingers fall over her lips. They’re quite swollen, but you have no doubt yours look exactly the same.  
  
“What?” She says when she finds her eyes on you, as if you’ve asked her a question and she didn’t hear it.  
  
You just laugh and start walking towards the exit of the building. After a few seconds, you hear Beca following you.  
  
You wonder what you should do next. Normally, and everything in you right now is screaming to do exactly that, you would go back to the dorm with Beca and try to continue what was just started. But you shouldn’t. Or should you? You’ve never been more confused.  
  
You honestly don’t know what the right move is here.  
  
And with the remembrance of Beca’s body against your own, thinking isn’t made easier.  
  
Which is the only thing you know right now. You can’t think when Beca’s near.  
  
“I forgot, I told Aubrey I’d go and see her after practice.” You lie, but Beca nods and seems to believe what you’re saying. It kind of makes you feel worse.  
  
“Oh.” She says suddenly. It goes quite fast, but you watch Beca take off her hoodie and throw it into your hands. Without explanation, she walks in her band shirt and sweats into the direction of your shared dorm.  
  
The explanation is very much present though. You’re shivering and wearing clothes that don’t even cover half your skin when it’s mid-winter. Still, you think it’s the sweetest thing the girl has ever done for you.  
  
Which is, **_again_** , not helping your case.

* * *

  
You call Aubrey to inform her about practice, but she says she has no time to talk since her project needs to be done by midnight. So much for following up on the lie you told Beca.  
  
You head to the only place you know where it’s quiet enough to actually think and process. Although it seems this Monday early evening, it’s a lot busier than usual in the Art section. You work on your project on your usual spot while trying to figure this thing with Beca out.  
  
Distancing yourself isn’t going to work if she’s going to continue to be cute and sexy in the shared time you can’t possibly give up. You are roommates and you are Barden Bellas. Nothing is going to change that.  
  
Maybe it’s not so much about spending time with her, you think. Because even if she’s not around, you spend all day thinking about the girl. And that’s what has to change. You need a distraction. Something that will keep your mind off of Beca. Something that will occupy your thoughts the way she does right now.  
  
You quickly take out your phone and ask Aubrey for advice.  
  
**_Chloe: Aubs I know you’re super busy but I need help! xxx (18:43)  
_**  
**_Bree: if this about the alt-girl, the answer is STOP SLEEPING WITH HER (18:45)  
_**  
_Well, that’s useless advice.._  
  
**_Chloe: we both know I can’t do that ;););) no but I’m in too deep (18:46)  
Chloe: need a distraction :( :(  (18:46)_**  
  
**_Bree: STOP SLEEPING WITH HER (18:50)  
Bree: or sleep with someone else (18:51)_**  
  
That’s also no option. You don’t _want_ to sleep with anyone else.  
  
**_Chloe: try something in the middle of those two maybe? xxx (18:52)_**  
  
**_Bree: find someone better (18:55)  
Bree: so like literally anyone else (18:55)  
Bree: anyone else Chlo (18:56)  
Bree: they don’t even have to be alive (18:56)  
Bree: or human (18:57)_**  
  
No matter how blunt your best friend is being, you get the idea of it. If you get interested in someone else, this dumb crush will go away and you and Beca can continue to have casual sex and be best friends!  
  
(Totally solid plan, Chloe. No holes in that plan at all..)  
  
You’re actually pretty proud of this plan of yours. Now you just need a cool person that you can hang out with and everything will be alright again, you decide. That exact moment, your eyes find Hannah in the room and you completely forgot she was even there. You saw her when you came in and you even greeted her, but you guess you were too busy thinking about Beca.  
  
“Hannah!” You yelp as you skip to the front of the room. “Can I ask you a question?”  
  
Hannah seems relaxed and calm as she moves her fingers covered in paint over the canvas in front of her. “Anything, newbie.” She replies, barely looking up to meet your eyes.  
  
“When you proposed dinner, did you mean it as a date?”  
  
The girl’s hands drop over the canvas and you don’t think that was on purpose, because she lets them drop to her pants. They didn’t look like pants that she wouldn’t mind getting paint on. Suddenly her calmness is gone and traded for stuttering and a lot of blinking. “I mean.. Yes, but it’s fine if you can’t. I totally understand, I mean I didn’t even check if that’s cool for you. It’s just, you seemed nice, and you still do! I didn’t mean that in the past tense-“  
  
“It sounds great.” You state both to shut the girl up and to get the words out before you change your mind. You like the Hannah who was chill and cool and wanted to be a tattoo artist. This stuttering, embarrassed mess of a girl is not so attractive. Maybe if she was a bit more sure of herself and wasn’t afraid of rejection. If she was just comfortable with her own decisions and didn’t care about what other people think of it..  
  
**No!  
**  
You’re doing this whole thing to **_stop_** thinking about Beca. You can’t go and change Hannah into her now.  
  
“But I can’t this week, because The Bellas are going to Regionals this Friday!” You speak a little too excited.  
  
“That’s alright. Maybe the weekend?” Hannah proposes.  
  
_The weekend._  
  
You’re usually with Beca in the weekend.  
  
“Weekend is fine.” You say quick, ignoring the drop of your own heart inside your chest.

* * *

 

* * *

  
Monday is boring and way too long. The classes you do go to are unable to spark your interest or retain your attention. The only good thing is that evil Coach is not at Bellas practice that day and Beale takes over class. It’s way messier than the usual practices, but you think that makes it a little more fun.  
  
That might be the only good thing, but the only great thing that happens that day is feeling Chloe’s lips against yours again. It had probably only been like fifteen hours since you last kissed her, but it always feels much longer.  
  
You spend the evening working on your new mixes and fall asleep way too early for your usual self.  
  
Tuesday morning and you’re awakened by Chloe, slapping you in the face and dragging you out of bed. For the two of you to be there on time, she practically needs to change you into proper clothes, because you’re on your feet, but you’re a long way from being awake.  
  
She gives you a Red Bull before leaving the room and that helps, but only a little.  
  
The practice is awful.  
  
Fucking dead awful.  
  
Aubrey is pissed, because Chloe did the song yesterday for whatever reason. Then she’s mad the group doesn’t know it better when they practiced it yesterday. Then she gets mad again for practicing without her.  
  
_Bitch._  
  
You might not have the energy to fully open your eyes yet, but Aubrey makes sure she awakes the rage inside of you and then the two of you are fighting again.  
  
You decide since you’re up anyway, you could might as well go to the classes you have that day. You don’t do much during them, but at least you’re present. Still, you’re glad when you’re released from the final class that day and you put on your headphones before making your way out of that room.  
  
The building is packed with people, so you have to push through some guys to get to the exit. Your joy of making it outside only lasts for a few seconds, because you find your father standing there, in his awful brown suit and ridiculously blue spotted tie, waiting for you.  
  
“Beca, hey.” He says as you walk past him and towards your dorm.  
  
“Stalking me again, old man?” You ask annoyed as you’re forced to lower the volume of your music when you notice he’s catching up on your pace.  
  
“I’m not stalking you, Beca. Can you please-“ Without another word, but with caution, he’s taking of your set of headphones. “That’s better.”  
  
“Dude!” You speak through grinned teeth as you take your precious item out of the man’s hands, offended.  
  
“It’s rude, Beca. We’re having a conversation here.” He states calm, unimpressed with the fire shooting out of your eyes.  
  
“Great. Let’s stop having a conversation then.” You say with a faked smile as you place the headphones back on its intended place.  
  
“Honey, I didn’t come here to fight with you.” He stops in his tracks, as if to say you’re either going to talk or he’s letting you walk away. You take a few more steps, considering just accepting the latter, but you might as well hear what he has to say.  
  
You turn on your heel while excessively rolling your eyes as you hit the headphones back to fall around your neck. “What did you come here for then, dad?”  
  
“Well, Sheila is back and I thought we could all have dinner together. Say, sometime this week?”  
  
“No, thanks.” You speak with disgust as you continue your way again, no longer caring if the man follows you or not.  
  
He does. “Beca, please. This is me trying to fix things. You said you were open to that.”  
  
You can't help the scoff that escapes your lips. “When did I say that?” The man doesn’t reply immediately, so you look over and actually sees how tired and old he’s gotten. You wonder if he still drinks the nights away.  
  
Probably not. He has a new life now.  
  
“It’s just dinner. I know it’s not a lot, but it can be a start. You can even bring Chloe and-”  
  
Your body gets pulled to a stop as if someone hit the emergency button and it overrode every action your mind had planned, as if someone tore out the plugs and it erased all the prompts it was sending to your body. “Why the fuck would I bring Chloe?”  
  
Your dad awkwardly has to do a few steps back to be near you again. You watch him balancing on his feet next to you until he speaks again. “Because she seems nice and she’s your friend.”  
  
“So that means I would be open to the idea of dragging her into the mess that is my family?” You shake your head as you’re finally able to move again. “No thanks, I don’t even want to be in your house, I’m definitely not bringing an unharmed outsider into it.”  
  
“You don’t have to. We can go to a restaurant.” The man proposes. “You only have to be there for a few hours and you can leave whenever you want.”  
  
Well, that already sounds better than being trapped into your father’s house all evening, but it’s still not tempting. You can think of at least sixty things that you could do that are better than dinner with your father.  
  
“Beca, I wanted to ask you before.” The man stumbles. “Last week. But I know you’d rather be alone on that day, so I’m asking you now.”  
  
_Rather be alone._  
  
That’s what he’s going to call it.  
  
Somehow, it feels like a smack to the face. Not because it’s not true, because you do prefer to be alone now. But when you were just a kid, drinking and getting into fights, you think you just did it to get his attention.  
  
You never liked to be alone on that day, but you were taught to be.  
  
It makes you both angry and sad that he thinks of it like that, but you’re way too tired to start a fight about it. It’s not like you have ever expected something else out of the man.  
  
“I’ll think about it.” You state defeated.  
  
He says another few things before heading another direction, but you can’t bring yourself to actually listen. You’re just relieved he’s finally leaving again.  
  
Chloe’s there when you enter the shared room, but you’re out of energy and you need to refill, so you collapse on your bed and intend on getting some sleep before another Bellas practice.  
  
“Long day?” Chloe giggles at the sight of you.  
  
The sound of that makes you turn on your back to look at the ceiling, wondering why a girl so great would even care to hear about your day. “I ran into my dad just now.” You sigh exaggerated.  
  
“Accidently?” Chloe asks suspicious, making you scoff.  
  
“Exactly.” You breathe out, wondering how the girl became such a good reader of people.  
  
“So what did you guys talk about?” Your roommate asks as she hops off of her bed and you feel her hands around your ankles, lifting your legs before sitting down and letting them rest on her lap, her hands not leaving your skin.  
  
“He wants to do dinner.”  
  
“Well that sounds like fun!” Chloe exclaims happily.  
  
You take your eyes off of the ceiling and find the woman at the end of your bed with a smile on her face, per usual. “Yeah? You go then.” Your voice is not nearly as rough as you would like it to.  
  
Chloe shrugs as she draws small circles on your ankles. “I guess I could come with you, if you insist.” The girl ends with a wink.  
  
You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, right. Keep dreaming, Beale.”  
  
“I dream about a lot of things that involve _coming_ with you, but not like that.”  
  
This girl and her winks will be the death of you some day, you just know it.  
  
A couple of minutes follow where you’re awkward and flustered while Chloe messes with you to get you even more awkward until the only response you have left is a sighing “oh my God”.  
  
Peace and quiet takes over as the redhead’s fingers continue to draw on the patch of skin between your shoes and the denim of your pants.  
  
“He did actually invite you, you know. To dinner.” You speak nervously, unaware of why confessing that even makes you nervous.  
  
“Is that so?” Chloe asks as her fingers slip underneath the denim and slide over your skin softly. “And you’re telling me this, because?”  
  
“Maybe I need someone to fill up the awkward silences with my dad or stop me from attacking his wife during dinner.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes stay on her moving hands, but you watch the corner of her lips twitches upwards before she sucks her lips into her mouth, preventing a smile from forming. She stays quiet for longer than you had imagined, as if she’s pondering the offer. Just when you think about taking it back or making fun of the girl for not getting that it was a joke, she speaks again.  
  
“I guess we can make a deal.”  
  
“A deal?” You repeat with a little more joy in your voice than intended. “The last time I made a deal with you, Beale..”  
  
“There were a lot less clothes involved.” Chloe finds your eyes and smirks while her fingers lightly pull at your jeans.  
  
The remembrance of that shower makes you grin back at the girl. “A lot less clothes indeed.” You agree.  
  
But Chloe tells you this deal won’t be anything like that and she giggles with reddened cheeks when you ask her if the part where she convinced you to take the deal will be the same.  
  
“Stop it, Becs!” She laughs harder. “This deal is a completely normal deal.” She exclaims after catching her breath. “I’ll go to dinner with you and your dad and his wife. And in exchange you spend Thanksgiving with me.”  
  
“Well, I liked our first deal a lot better.” You reply impassive.  
  
“Either you spend Thanksgiving with your family or you spend it with mine, but you’re not going to spend it alone.” Chloe states simply.  
  
Well of course you’re not spending it with your dad and you know that your roommate knows that as well. You ask her what it exactly means to go with her and Chloe explains she’s staying with her family for a few days and apparently the holiday is a big deal to them.  
  
The whole, general idea of it alone should be enough to refuse, but you’re actually considering it. You don’t know why a house full of Beale’s somewhere in Kansas seems more appealing than eating takeout by yourself in this small college dorm.  
  
You reckon it’s caused by sleep deprivation, but you take Chloe’s stretched hand in yours without thinking of what this all means.  
  
“Deal.” You say.

* * *

  
Wednesday the realization hits that you’ve actually agreed to go with your roommate to spend a holiday with her family.  
  
You don’t know which part scares you more; being around her family or being around _her_ , voluntarily. You were assigned to this room that you share with her and you made a deal to be a Bella, but now you’ve actually chosen to be around her, without any promise of sex or whatsoever.  
  
You calm yourself down by telling your mind this is what friends do.  
  
But you fear you will fuck things up immensely, even as a friend. You don’t do good around people. Yes, Chloe knows how you work and what you actually mean behind layers of sarcasm and brick walls, but you’re probably going to offend her entire family or joke about death towards her grandparents, and they are most likely a happy, great family and you’ll only be more irritated because of that and- _oh God_ , what if you punch someone?  
  
_Relax, Mitchell. Relax._  
  
You won’t be punching anyone.  
  
(You hope.)  
  
Chloe will be around and you don’t freak out as often as you used to when she’s around, so you’ll probably live through it. Besides, a big family valuing an eating tradition this much, you can’t imagine what amount of food will be presented to you.  
  
You calm down a bit at the thought of food.  
  
Great food.  
  
A lot of food.

* * *

  
“Beale, does tonight work for you?” You ask careless as you walk into the shared room on Thursday while texting your father. You really don’t want to call him and you’re kind of glad he’s finally learnt how to text. And you figured you might as well get this dumb dinner over with before you change your mind about the whole thing.  
  
“Tonight? You mean, this tonight?”  
  
You scoff at her stupidity. “Yeah, that’s usually what tonight means. Why? Got other plans already?” You ask as you head into the closet and change into proper practice clothes.  
  
“No.” You hear Chloe reply from the other room. “No, no plans.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
“I’m all yours.”  
  
You’re not sure you’ve actually heard the girl say those words and you’re halfway through getting dressed, so you don’t reply and stay out of sight, unsure of what you’d even reply if you tried.  
  
On the way towards the gym, Chloe asks you all kind of questions about the night; what she should wear, where you’ll meet your dad and his new wife, where you’ll be having dinner. You don’t really care what she’ll wear, you haven’t asked your dad about meeting up, but you reckon it’ll be at the restaurant, which you also haven’t decided on.  
  
“Becs!” The girl says as she slaps your arm lightly. “You don’t know anything.” Chloe giggles. You just shrug. “Okay, what will you be wearing? We have to match.”  
  
“Why?” You ask annoyed. When Chloe doesn’t reply and instead just glues her eyes on you, you sigh before answering her question.  
  
“Of course jeans and a shirt, but which ones?!” Chloe continues. “Oh! If you wear a white t-shirt, I can pull off a dress.”  
  
You don’t really see what the color of your shirt has to do with the girl wearing a dress, but you can’t say you’re opposed, so you push back with minimum force and let her win easily.  
  
During your final practice before the Regionals, you’re focused on the group, but your thoughts are with Chloe. Usually, meeting your dad alone is reason for you to freak out and start fights with whomever crosses your path. Let alone dinner with him and the step-monster.  
  
But it’s only a few hours away and you’re.. Calm.  
  
You know it’s because of your roommate. She seems to have that effect on you more and more often lately. You don’t know what that means and you don’t want to get any ideas about that.  
  
But you think you’re kind of glad she’s coming with you tonight.

* * *

  
You’re growling and complaining when Chloe hands you a white shirt and black trousers, but you change into them anyway. Or so you try to, because your hands aren’t working along and you’re getting agitated when you can’t get the stupid buttons to close. Just when you think about throwing the clothes away and canceling the entire evening, Chloe comes near and buttons your shirt for you.  
  
You roll your eyes and ignore the girl’s stare, her stupid grin and where her fingers touch your skin by accident.  
  
“You’re nervous.” Chloe states as her hands move to the top of your shirt to fix the neck that’s probably twisted weird.  
  
“I’m not nervous. I’m just not very excited.” You speak indifferent as you watch the girl that has her eyes focused on your clothes.  
  
“Well, you look great, Becs.” She smiles brightly.  
  
You watch her leave your space and head back to the mirror where she was working on her hair. You only now see what the girl is wearing; a dark blue dress with heels to match, making you stare at her long legs for a little too long. Your roommate’s lifting and twisting her hair in ways you can’t even follow, but soon enough it’s resting on her head like a masterpiece.  
  
She continues with her makeup and it takes everything from you to turn away. You distract yourself by putting on your shoes, to which Chloe complains you can’t wear sneakers. You think how funny it is that the girl would assume you have anything else but sneakers.  
  
You pace the room when you’re finished to let your roommate know that, _you’re finished_. And that she’s taking forever. But it doesn’t seem to hurry her, so you sigh dramatically a few times and you exaggeratedly check the time on **_her_** watch.  
  
“I thought you said you weren’t nervous.” The girl somehow manages to get the words out clearly while she’s putting lipstick on.  
  
“I’m just hungry and you’re taking forever.” You complain as you start pacing again.  
  
“You could just admit you’re nervous and allow me to help you.”  
  
The girl is suddenly behind you, all smiles and winks as her fingers trail over your arms. You shiver as you try to come up with some sort of retort, but your mind goes blank when you see Chloe’s eyes focused on your neck while her tongue wets her bottom lip. “Help me?” That’s all you’re able to let past your lips and the girl in front of you just hums.  
  
“Help you relax.” She clarifies. “You’re quite tensed, Becs.” She speaks when her hands find your shoulders, but instead of doing something about that tension, she just lets her hands fall around your neck and she smiles simply, as if that would solve everything.  
  
You allow as much air into your lungs as possible while you roll your eyes, knowing that if she plans on looking at you like that any longer, all the air in the world wouldn’t be enough to keep you alive.  
  
Instead of playing along with the girl’s games, you decide to just kiss her and give her what she’s after. So you move to stand on your toes a little and press your lips onto hers. She tastes excessively like cherry and you don’t even like cherry, but you keep kissing her anyway. You think maybe you could start to get used to cherry if it’s like this.  
  
Chloe slows you down and you follow her tempo until she pulls back and there’s space between the two of you that you wish weren’t there at all. The young woman fixes your hair and wipes her thumbs over the corners of your lips with an all too satisfying grin. “Now I have to redo my lipstick.” Chloe states as she heads back to the mirror.  
  
You curse and groan loudly to show your annoyance, but you know it doesn’t do much. Your roommate will do whatever she pleases anyway, and you can’t say that’s a bad thing.  
  
So you sit on your bed for another ten minutes until the girl seems ready to go, but of course spends another five minutes looking for a fitting purse.  
  
“Let’s just go, please.” You beg. It’s close to seven and you’re starving. You plan to order as soon as you sit down, you don’t care about formalities.  
  
“I’m not sure about this dress, Becs. Don’t you think the other one would be better?”  
  
You do not want the girl to change, because she’ll have to change her shoes and hair and probably everything again. You just want to eat and get this evening over with.  
  
“Beale, you’re fine, okay? You look beautiful, now let’s go.”  
  
You already have the door open and a hand reached out for the girl to take, so you can get some speed in those long legs of her. You think you see her blushing as she lays her hand in yours to rest without making an attempt to move through the door opening.  
  
“Be careful with the compliments, Becs. I might start to think you like me.”

* * *

  
You reach the restaurant where your dad and his wife stand near the entrance waiting for you. He kisses your cheek, probably to show the step-monster you guys are fine again, which you’re not, but whatever. You’re too weak to start a fight right now and the sweet, sweet smell of food coming from the building is making you even weaker.  
  
“Beca, hi. It’s nice to see you again.” Sheila makes an attempt to hug you, but you step back quickly. The woman is already way too close and you try to think of an excuse to put some more space between everyone.  
  
You take another step back and feel Chloe’s hand on the small of your back, grounding you in some weird way. You hear the girl introduce herself and you feel bad, because you should have done that, right? She’s your friend and this is your weird family or whatever.  
  
“You look gorgeous!” You hear the step-monster tell your roommate.  
  
“I’m glad you could come, Chloe.” Your dad speaks sincere. Of course he’s glad, because he knows she can keep you from murdering him if he says something wrong.  
  
“I hope you didn’t have to wait for too long. Beca and I were running a little late, we apologize.”  
  
“ _You_ were running late, so you apologize.” You say grumpy.  
  
“She’s just hungry.” Chloe giggles as she pinches your cheek, making her laugh even harder when you attempt to slap her hand away from you.  
  
Your dad holds the door open and you enter the building one by one.

* * *

  
“Beca, I had no idea you joined a club. How did that happen?”  
  
You honestly wish this evening was over already, but the ordered food hasn’t even arrived yet, so you can’t exactly flee the building on an empty stomach.  
  
It’s not that bad, actually. Your dad and Chloe seem to get along, which comes as no surprise, because the girl can get along with anyone. And every time you look at the woman next to your dad, she’s smiling softly at you.  
  
It’s making you uncomfortable and you don’t know how to deal with that, so you just turn your head and remind yourself not to let your eyes fall on the woman again.  
  
All the while, Chloe’s telling your dad about the group you joined and how you’ll have your first competition tomorrow. Whenever it comes to The Bellas, Chloe talks about it like it’s all she has and her face gets all bright and cute and weird. It makes you forget how you actually don’t want your dad to know anything about your life, but dinner would be a whole of a lot more uncomfortable if you asked Chloe not to tell him anything that’s going on right now.  
  
You guess it’s fine if he knows about The Bellas. It might help your case and lead him to believe you’re actually trying your hardest in this college experience.  
  
When dinner is finally served, the topic has changed from your life to Chloe’s and it’s quite the relief. The girl talks easily about her family and future plans while you just focus on finishing that steak as fast as you can. When she excuses herself to use the bathroom, she swipes her thumb over your cheek and suggests you might need some cleaning up.  
  
You follow the girl into the back of the building where you find she was right when you meet yourself in the mirror. You wet your hands and roughly work to get the sauce off of your cheeks. You’re not even done yet when Chloe exits the stall.  
  
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but your dad isn’t so bad.”  
  
“You’re right, I don’t wanna hear that.” You groan as your cheeks turn red from the pressure you put on them.  
  
Chloe pushes your hands out the way and takes matters in her own hands. You’re annoyed she seems to have more success than you.  
  
“Are you at least having a _not so terrible_ time then?” Chloe asks.  
  
“It’s alright.” You reply unimpressed.  
  
Chloe moves away from you to check on herself in the mirror, but per usual takes way too long.  
  
“You still look fine, Beale. Can we go before they start wondering where we are?”  
  
“I didn’t know you cared, Becs.” Chloe winks at you through the mirror as she fixes her already perfect hair.  
  
You roll your eyes, because you don’t care. You couldn’t care less about what your dad thinks, but the sooner you get back, the sooner you can leave this restaurant again.  
  
“For the record-“ Chloe speaks as she dries her hands and approaches you, her arms falling over your shoulders as she stands close to you. “-I think you’re doing great.”  
  
“Yeah? Because I haven’t murdered someone yet?” You don’t know why you restrain your hands from touching the girl when it’s probably all you want to do right now, and the longer she stays pressed against you, the harder it gets so you decided to just let them rest on her hips for the sake of being awkward if you don’t.  
  
“Because you’re trying. I know it’s probably not easy to give him this chance.”  
  
You don’t really know what to say to that, but you think it’s okay if you don’t speak right now.  
  
So you stay there in the bathroom for a few seconds, Chloe’s arms wrapped around your neck and her forehead resting against yours, the noise from the dining people in the restaurant being the only sound you hear.  
  
You feel safe.  
  
You feel like you’re being charged and you can handle everything, even your dad, with Chloe by your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, thanks for everyone always leaving nice messages on here or on Tumblr, I feel like I don't say that enough but it means a lot! Tell me what you want to see more of or just come talk to me about these nerds ;) I'm lifeisbechloe on Tumblr! See y'all soon (hopefully)!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "It’s all right to love someone who doesn’t love you back, as long as they’re worth you loving them. As long as they deserve it." -Cassandra Clare
> 
> /

The practice Tuesday morning consists mostly of fighting. You blame yourself, because Aubrey did tell you not to do the song without her, and you went against her. Now, the entire group has to pay for what you have decided when your best friend wasn’t around.  
  
You tried to explain it to her, but of course she wouldn’t listen. She feels betrayed, but you didn’t mean to go behind her back. You decide to let her yell and be mad during the class, so she feels like she’s back in control and then afterwards you’ll talk to her and calm her down.  
  
You know that’s impossible to do when she’s in this state.  
  
“Bree, can we talk?” You ask her when the girls are on their way out and she’s packing her stuff.  
  
“Now you want to talk, Chloe? After you’ve ruined everything?”  
  
That one stings exactly where she intended it to. “Bree, that’s not fair. I was trying-“  
  
But Aubrey won’t listen and she takes every opportunity she gets to hurt your feelings and make you feel worse than you already did about the whole situation. You were just trying to make everyone happy and prepare for the Regionals at the same time.  
  
Stacie has to interrupt after a few minutes when you’ve burst out in tears and she takes your best friend away from you. You’re left in that cold gym with tears streaming down your face, but you clean yourself up and head to class anyway.  
  
Only ten minutes in and you’re already texting Aubrey you’re sorry about the whole thing. She doesn’t forgive you right away, but you’re back to your usual routine of jogging and drinking coffee together after class, so you think you two are okay again.  
  
Before the afternoon practice starts, you decide to go back to your room to get some work done, but instead you spend your time thinking about Beca and how to tell her you’ve got a date with Hannah. You know you have to tell her and you want to do that as soon as possible, because this isn’t supposed to be a secret or anything. You want Beca to know.  
  
So you convince yourself you’ll tell Beca as soon as you see her, but when she bursts through the door a few minutes later and, without a word, crashes onto her bed, every thought about Hannah evaporates in the air.  
  
The girl tells you about the conversation she had with her dad, and you didn’t even have to pressure her into opening up. Before you know it, you’re back to flirting with the smaller girl, and you wish it was a conscious decision, but it just really isn’t.  
  
Flirting with the girl comes as easy to you as breathing.  
  
“Maybe I need someone to fill up the awkward silences with my dad or stop me from attacking his wife during dinner.”  
  
The words bring goosebumps onto your skin and for a second you want to drown in the feeling that swims through your chest. Beca asking you to come along with her to dinner, Beca actually admitting, in her own words, that she needs you around.. You can’t even put to words what that means to you.  
  
You take this opportunity to invite Beca to Thanksgiving with your family, which is really the opposite of your plans to get distance from the girl, but the idea of Beca being alone on such a holiday breaks your heart.  
  
This isn’t about you and the feelings you have for Beca. You will survive those. Although there’s a big chance that they will increase over the Thanksgiving break period, you will just have to get rid of those after that. Right now, you only care about Beca being around people.  
  
Your family is great and you don’t think Beca cares much about holidays, but you want her to have a good experience during one of them. You want her to feel the way you do when you’re placed around that huge dining table where everyone’s joking and laughing and being happy.  
  
And you know Beca might not know how to handle all of that, but you’ll be around. You know enough of her faces to recognize when everything gets overwhelming or when she gets uncomfortable. You’re more than prepared to chase after her and you’re even ready to let her go if she’s completely out of her comfort zone in your parents’ house.  
  
“How many cheerful Beale’s will I have to do deal with?” Beca asks sarcastic, but you know she just wants to get the idea of spending Thanksgiving at your place. She has every right to know that.  
  
You have quite a big family and everyone always comes over for a day like that, but you don’t hold back and name as many people as you can remember that will be there, even if that overwhelms Beca.  
  
“Okay, last question. Can I still call you Beale or will everyone respond to that?” Beca asks with a grin on her face.  
  
“I think that’ll be fine.” You laugh.  
  
“Alright then.” Beca says and you extend her your hand. “Deal.”

* * *

  
The rest of Tuesday and the entire Wednesday, you spend contemplating the whole Hannah thing. You’ve already decided this little deal you made with Beca is out of friendship and nothing more, but even if that’s true, you’re more dreading than excited to go on a date with the girl from your art class.  
  
You think the reason you haven’t told Beca about it yet is because you’re not sure you want to go in the first place. Hannah is nice and awesome, but Beca seems to captivate your thoughts whether you’re around her or Hannah. The truth is, she just has nothing on Beca.  
  
And it’s not helping that Beca’s being more open and soft towards you either.  
  
If you had the choice, you’d go for Beca in every occasion. But the question isn’t that easy. It isn’t who you'd choose. It’s who would choose you back..

* * *

  
Thursday rolls around and you have at least twenty different explanations to give Hannah as to why you can’t go out with her, including the truth. Although telling someone you can’t go out with them, because you have a crush on your roommate isn’t your best option.  
  
The only reason you decided to do this whole date thing is so you’d think less about Beca and put some distance between the two of you, but that seems kind of useless now. You don’t want to distance yourself from the girl and you don’t think Hannah could do anything about the thoughts you have regarding your roommate.  
  
Feeling helpless and uncertain, you ask Aubrey for advice again.  
  
**_Chloe: bree I don’t want to go out with other people :( xxx (10:21)  
_**  
**_Bree: are you serious right now (10:23)  
Bree: just go out with the painter and see what happens (10:23)  
_**  
**_Chloe: I don’t wanna see what happens!! (10:24)  
Chloe: I asked Becs along for Thanksgiving :$ :D xxx (10:27)  
_**  
**_Bree: CHLO (10:28)  
_**  
Aubrey sends at least seven different text messages saying how much of a mess Beca is and how she’ll tear apart your family. You roll your eyes and smile, because you never used to roll your eyes before a certain someone entered your life.  
  
**_Chloe: she said yes and she’s been super open lately (10:34)  
_**  
**_Bree: Chlo! TMI (10:35)  
_**  
**_Chloe: Not like that!! (10:35)  
Chloe: Well also like that ;) ;) ;) (10:35)  
Chloe: but what if I was wrong and she might like me (10:36)  
Chloe: and she gets the wrong idea about me and Hannah (10:36)  
_**  
**_Bree: like she thinks that you two going on a date means that.. You’re dating? (10:38)  
_**  
**_Chloe: yes! Cause we’re not!! She’s a distraction (10:40)  
_**  
**_Bree: that’s rude (10:40)  
Bree: also Beca has no feelings (10:42)  
Bree: she’s too angry and out of touch with the world to be able to (10:42)_**  
  
You know that’s not true. Beca has feelings, she just doesn’t know how to handle them apart from fighting them. But maybe Aubrey is right and she doesn’t like you. Somehow going out with Hannah wouldn’t make that hurt any less, you reckon.  
  
You plan to head home after all your classes that day as you’re slowly but surely coming to terms with a decision that has to be made. Not only have you decided the art student won’t be able to do what this impulsive plan of yours was all about, taking your mind of Beca, you now also fear that Beca will have the wrong idea about it and shut you out completely.  
  
Nothing would be worth that. Not after weeks of coming this far with the girl and earning her trust. You will just have to overcome these feelings on your own.  
  
So instead of going home, you go and find Hannah in the hallways of the art section that afternoon and you explain you can’t go on a date with her. She seems fine with that and you’re just glad you made this decision. She asks if you want to go for dinner tonight and you can’t see why not.  
  
Happy and relieved, you go back to your dorm and change into comfortable workout clothes. You’re busy stretching when Beca comes through the door.  
  
“Beale, does tonight work for you?”  
  
You don’t know why you lie when she asks if you already have plans, because you could just tell her you’re supposed to meet Hannah for dinner, and that it’s no problem if you tell her you can’t make it anyway, but instead you tell Beca you have no plans. You feel awful when she smiles at you, but there’s no need for her to know if you’re not going to meet the art student anyway. She would just feel bad for informing you this late and might even encourage you to go to your previously made dinner plans.  
  
You don’t want that.  
  
You text Hannah to apologize and see if you can go back to your former plans. You’re glad she responds positive and tells you she’ll see you on Saturday.  
  
“I’m all yours.” You let slip past your lips when your schedule is cleared and there’s nothing standing between you and Beca.

* * *

  
“But between the two of them, if you had to choose!”  
  
“I wouldn’t punch either of them, Beca!”  
  
The dinner with Mister Mitchell, Sheila and your newest friend went relatively smooth. There were some minor incidents, but they stayed within the lines of having dinner with people who don’t get along quite well.  
  
“It’s Sheila, isn’t it?”  
  
“Yeah, but I don’t know why.” You speak as you open the door to your room and you have the pleasure of watching Beca fall to her bed laughing. You think you can joke about metaphorically punching people more often if it makes her laugh like this.  
  
“God, this day’s been crazy.” Beca breathes out heavy as she turns to lay on her back, hands folded underneath her head and her eyes staring up, as if there’s an entire sky full of stars in her sight.  
  
“You ate so much, though.” You giggle from the kitchen as you fill two glasses with juice. “Be careful, might contain things that are actually good for you.” You say mocking as you hand her a glass and take a seat on your own bed.  
  
Beca drinks half before complaining with the most adorable crunched up face you’ve ever seen. You finish both your own and Beca’s before changing into your pajamas.  
  
“It’s not even eleven yet, what are you doing?” Beca asks when she notices what you’re doing.  
  
“Big day tomorrow, Becs. We leave at six, so we should get some sleep.”  
  
“We probably should.” Beca agrees, but her hands are suddenly on your hips and next thing you know, you’re on your bed with Beca on top of you, her lips kissing yours while her hands roam your body.  
  
_Sleep? Who needs sleep?  
_

* * *

  
Six thirty and not nearly half the girls have arrived at the meetup place. It’s just you, Aubrey, Lilly who whispered something about bats and never sleeping at night, and Beca who you practically had to drag out of bed and get dressed to get her to be here on time. The girl in discussion is currently placed in the bus, her head resting against the window with her knees pulled to her chest, hugging them lightly. She looks adorable sleeping.  
  
One by one, the rest of the girls fill the bus until everyone has arrived and Fat Amy pulls onto the road. The first few hours of the trip go by quiet. Most of the girls are continuing their interrupted night’s rest, but you’re just listening to the music on your iPod and focusing on what today’s going to bring.  
  
Around nine o’clock, the girls are slowly coming back to life and Fat Amy turning up the radio takes care of the rest. Soon enough, there’s people singing and dancing in the rented bus. You enjoy the scene from your seat.  
  
“Figured you’d be the first one rocking out, Beale.” Beca drops down in the seat next to yours, stuffing a candy bar down her throat as breakfast.  
  
“Figured you’d sleep until ten seconds before the performance.” You shoot back with a smile.  
  
“I would if I wasn’t trapped with animals.” Beca states grumpy just as Stacie runs to the front of the bus screaming.  
  
You laugh and follow what’s happening around you, but the scenario seems to have just ended, because the girls are back to singing and dancing to the music.  
  
“Anyway, I just came over to, you know, thank you for last night and all.” Beca stumbles through the sentence without making eye contact with you. You think this is as vulnerable and sincere as the girl comes.  
  
“Which part of the night are you thanking me for?” You flirt to lighten the mood, and it works, because Beca’s cheeks turn color and she’s suppressing a smile. As far as you can tell, Beca doesn’t need to thank you for anything. You had a great time at dinner and an even greater time after dinner.  
  
“You’re the worst.” Beca mumbles with a casual roll of the eyes.  
  
Instead of going back to her previous spot in the vehicle, she stays put and hands you one of her earplugs.

* * *

  
“Captain Drill Sergeant, sir.” Fat Amy yells out. “We might have a situation here.”  
  
Aubrey is besides the driving girl in no time and you and the rest of the girls are quick to follow. Amy’s definition of a huge traffic jam is apparently ‘a situation’.  
  
“Can’t we go around it, Fat Amy?” Your best friend asks immediately.  
  
“Yeah right, like you can go around a bull like that!” Amy laughs mocking. Apparently this is the only route you can take.  
  
“We’re never gonna make it.” Aubrey cries out dramatically. “If everyone would’ve been on time this morning, we wouldn’t have had this problem!”  
  
“Bree, we will make it, everybody relax.” You calm the group down by deciding to change into the performing outfits while in the bus, so when your group gets there, however late that might be, you’re ready to go. The girls all start to change clothes right away, Beca being the obvious exception who does not start willingly.  
  
Since there are no mirrors, the girls all check each other out for any flaws in the outfits. Aubrey checks you and you return the favor until you search for Beca to see if she needs any help. She’s near the back of the bus, pulling angrily at the fabric around her neck.  
  
“Who comes up with these outfits?!” She groans as you approach her.  
  
You just take the item and fix it for the girl, lightly strapping it around the smooth skin you were allowed to place your mouth on only a few hours ago. “It’s just a scarf, Becs.”  
  
“Why are we dressed as flight attendants anyway.” Beca mumbles in complaint while pulling on the fabric in annoyance.  
  
You simply slap her hands back and hand her a pair of heels to finish the outfit, which of course only rises more anger in the girl who apparently thought she could perform in Nike’s.

* * *

  
You arrive at the Carolina University about an hour late, but still in time for your performance as the Sockapella’s are finishing up their strange act. You’re up next and you’re proud of your group of girls for performing it so well. It has not been easy to get this group to focus and move in sync, but they pulled it off and you make it to second place. You’re happy and proud, but Aubrey is quick to state that there will be some extra practices in the course over the next few months to prepare and improve for the semi-finals.  
  
You know this is just Aubrey being Aubrey, but you really wish she’d let the group of girls have a few minutes of bliss and pride.  
  
On your way to exit the building, an altercation seems to be forming between some Treble guys and a few older looking men. You can’t tell what’s exactly happening because you’re still on the back of the stairs with Aubrey, but you spot Jesse who’s being pushed by one of the older men.  
  
Fat Amy is the first of your group to head down the stairs and it comes as no surprise that Beca follows. “I’m just gonna see what’s going on.” She tells you and you wonder if you should stop her. If you have that right, if you can just pull her towards you and keep her safe, but you know that’s not how she works.  
  
Seeing Beca punch a guy is weirdly interesting.  
  
She’s all tough and fierce, no matter her size. You know this is a part of her you would normally not like in a friend. You don’t like aggressive people and you don’t like violence. Yet with Beca it’s different. It’s not like she’s after blood or anything. She’s standing up for her friend, Jesse, and now Fat Amy who’s acting all wild and out of control. And you can tell Beca’s capable. She knows how to hit someone. You probably wouldn’t even know how to make a fist, let alone actually impact someone’s face with it. Beca however seems in her zone like this. She knows herself and her skills, and she relies on them to get her out of a situation like this. Her choice will always be to stand up and fight, and she trusts in her abilities to help her out the best they can.  
  
How can you do anything but admire that?  
  
The sound of glass breaking hits you out of your thoughts and you see Beca standing with half a trophy in her hands and Fat Amy fleeing the scene. You run down the stairs and meet your friend at the same time a police officer approaches her and you don’t understand how Beca can look so chill about the whole situation.  
  
“I think that’s the first time I’ve seen Amy run.” Beca says laughing.  
  
“Who knew all it took was a police officer and a chance to get arrested?” You can’t help but joke and laugh along with the girl even though the officer is getting closer and closer, and you should probably freak out or yell at the girl for getting into a situation like this.  
  
“You should get the girls home.” Beca instructs you as the police officer arrives and tells her she has to come with him.  
  
You hear the officer read her the rights that you’ve only ever heard in movies and TV shows before and suddenly this whole situation becomes very real. You feel tears sting in your eyes, but you can’t be the one crying here right now.  
  
“Hey Beale, look at me.” You hear Beca speak. You have your eyes on the handcuffs that are placed around her wrists and you try with all that you have to find the girls eyes and do what she asked you to do. “Look at me.” She sounds calm and as if she has a small smile on her face, but you can’t see it. Not yet. “Give me a fucking minute, man!” She yells at the officer and that makes your eyes find hers. You see the man behind her looking neutral and rather annoyed, but he doesn’t pull her away from you. “It’ll be alright, okay? I’ll see you back at the room.”  
  
“I should-“ You stutter because of the lump in your throat. You’re no longer able to keep the tears resting in your eyes and you feel them roll over your cheeks. “I should go with you, I could-“  
  
“You can’t, okay? You have to get the girls back to campus and I’ll see you there.”  
  
The officer seems to have had enough, because he pulls on Beca’s cuffs and she has no choice but to comply. Her eyes stay on you as the man drags her to her police car and you don’t think you’ve ever felt more helpless than right now, as you’re watching Beca sit in the back of that car that drives off.  
  
“Chloe, are you alright?”  
  
You don’t know how long Jesse has been standing near you, but it’s clear he waited until Beca was taken away before speaking.  
  
“Where’s Aubrey?” You ask the freshman. “Can you find her for me and tell her-“  
  
“Chloe, I will get Beca, she’s in there because of me. You should go home.”  
  
_Somehow going home without Beca doesn’t feel much like home, you admit to yourself.  
_  
“I’ll have her back to you before the end of the day.” The boy promises and you know he’ll probably keep that promise, but you don’t feel good about leaving Beca. You know you can’t do much for her while she’s in there, but you can be there when she gets out.  
  
The thought of your friend being locked up behind bars scares you more than anything. She’s all alone and perhaps she’s cold. Maybe if you’re extra nice to the police officers, they’ll allow you to bring her a jacket or a blanket. Or will they lift her in one of those orange suits?  
  
_Oh God.  
_  
You’re panicking. You know you are.  
  
Beca will probably be fine. She’s been in jail before and she seemed pretty calm up until the moment you started crying, which most likely made her extremely uncomfortable. She told you to go home; you should go home. Jesse can get her and she will be fine. She will probably just get angry if she finds you waiting there for her and getting all emotional again.  
  
It’s no big deal to Beca, so you shouldn’t make it one.  
  
She’ll be fine.  
  
“Thanks Jesse.” You say sincere and the guy hugs you tightly before heading out the building. You trust he will get your friend out.  
  
You pick yourself up and force your legs to move even though you don’t really want them to, because they’re moving away from Beca and that’s never the right way.

* * *

  
“Eyeline-monster has a mean righty, I’ll give her that.”  
  
“Yeah, I have to say, I thought that badass look was just a look, but damn, white girl got skills.”  
  
The group doesn’t seem bothered with Beca in jail, they are just proud of what she did and praising her. Except for Fat Amy who calls her dumb for not running away and Aubrey who is awfully quiet when the topic is your roommate.  
  
Amy parks the bus near your dorm and all the girls follow you into your room. Hours go by and there’s no sign from Beca yet. You know she won’t text you, but you’d hoped for a call by now. The girls try to keep your mind off of your friend, and they succeed a couple of times, but she’s always in your thoughts.  
  
You wonder if you made the wrong decision. If you should have stayed with her after all.  
  
The movie Cynthia-Rose had put on has ended, but the girls make no attempt to leave. You don’t think they’re concerned about you being alone, but you think they want to stay here and wait for Beca to return. Even Aubrey is still here, against the odds.  
  
The clock is running fast towards midnight and you wonder if Jesse has been able to keep his promise, but before you can wallow over that again, the door flings open and you’re able to breathe again.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“What up, Shawshank?!”  
  
“Did you get yourself a bitch?”  
  
“Did they spray you with a hose?  
  
Beca seems okay, so you don’t bother checking that and you stay on your bed with the girls around you. You watch your friend’s face turn into something you haven’t seen much of; gratitude. Or something along the lines of that, because she seems relieved and relaxed, standing in that small kitchen of yours with a smile resting on her lips.  
  
“You guys waited up for me?” The girl asks and it spreads a warm feeling throughout your entire body.  
  
“Of course we waited up for you.” You reply before anyone else can.  
  
“Yeah, we’ve been here for hours.” Aubrey speaks with annoyance, but you hold Beca’s gaze and you think if you just keep her eye, nothing else will matter. “But Beca, I’m glad you’re here, I’m holding an emergency Bellas meeting.”  
  
The girls all vocally disagree to that idea, but your best friend continues anyway and that of course leads to an argument between the two girls who are always getting into arguments. Aubrey orders a practice at eight a.m. tomorrow morning and that’s the end of it. The girls leave the room one by one until there’s just you and Beca left.  
  
Unsure if Beca wants to discuss the night, you head into the closet to change clothes and let her adjust to the air between you. You’re not even out of your pants yet when Beca speaks from the other room.  
  
“Thanks for calling Kevin.”  
  
You happened to have Kevin’s card in your wallet and by the time you realized someone needed to pay Beca’s bail, you were already halfway across state. You didn’t know who else to call that Beca would accept bailing her out instead of the man she sees as a father figure. He picked up luckily and he basically jumped in his car before you could ask him. You’re grateful Beca has him in her life. He’s a good one for her.  
  
“I didn’t feel like turning a bus full of girls around just to bail you out.” You say jokingly as you look for a shirt to sleep in.  
  
“I thought I was the only one who could dodge sincerity?”  
  
“You’re welcome, Becs.” You say as you exit the closet and jump in your bed. “Tell me what happened.”  
  
And she does. She tells you everything, from the inside of the county jail to the fight she had with Jesse, because he called her dad. You feel a little bad for the young guy, because you’re sure he meant well. But you also think that you don’t even have to know Beca at all to know that her relationship with her father isn’t much of a relationship at all.

* * *

 

* * *

  
County jail in Carolina is way more fancy than all the other ones you’ve ever been locked up in. They offer you food and some water while the officers write you into their system. They’re surprised you deny your entitled phone call and ask at least seven more times if you are sure.  
  
Of course you’re sure.  
  
They booked you for destruction of property, so they can’t keep you for more than one night. At least you don’t think they could.  
  
You’re guided to a cell that already contains six people; five men and one woman. The officer takes off your handcuffs before closing the bars and you take a seat on the floor. You know better than to sit on a bench that someone has already mentally claimed. You want to get out of here as soon as you can and fighting someone over a spot isn’t the way to that.  
  
You wrap your arms around your legs and curse the redhead you share a room with for the outfit you’re currently wearing. You try to block the girl from your thoughts and just get some sleep, but the image of Chloe crying while the man put you in handcuffs won’t leave your mind any time soon, you reckon.  
  
You felt bad watching her cry. You felt like maybe you shouldn’t have punched that guy and maybe you shouldn’t have taken the fall for Fat Amy, but you know both of those weren’t choices you rationally made. You punched that guy because he put his hands on Jesse and you would take the fall for a friend any day.  
  
Besides, you don’t think jail would survive Fat Amy. She would survive jail, but jail simply wouldn’t survive her.  
  
You have always been a fighter, but seeing someone you care about, _seeing Chloe_ , cry over you made you wish you weren’t. Her face was soft and full of compassion, making you realize once again how many feelings this girl has, how much she cares about everyone, even a screw up like you.  
  
You wonder if you’ve hurt her. If she was crying because she’s disappointed in you.  
  
You wouldn’t blame her.  
  
You wonder if she’s going to be mad at you when you get back. And what exactly an angry Beale would look like, because it’s damn near impossible to imagine that. Maybe she will simply tell you she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore and that will be it. You reckon she’ll still be all nice and sweet about it, which just makes it harder, because you’d rather have her screaming and yelling at you than letting you go with a smile and a hug.  
  
You decide you can’t do anything about that if that were to happen, so there’s no need to waste thoughts about it. You curl up into a corner and try to get some sleep on the cold floor.

* * *

  
“Mitchell!”  
  
You jerk up and out of sleep, wondering how many hours that were as you watch the guard open the gate.  
  
“Your bail has been paid. Free to go.”  
  
You don’t know who would pay your bail this time a day, but you don’t care that much to stay in the building for any longer than necessary to find out. When you exit the police station, Jesse is there and it all makes sense then.  
  
“Hey Hilary Swank from Million Dollar Baby. “  
  
“Hey, you know you just have to say ‘Million Dollar Baby’, you don’t have to reference the specific actress. “  
  
“Damn. Prison changed you.”  
  
The guy makes you laugh and it’s safe to say this has not been the worst police altercation you’ve encountered in.  
  
“Thanks for bailing me out.” You state as you fall into pace next to the guy and head onto the parking lot.  
  
“Oh, I didn’t.”  
  
You don’t seem to understand, but a vehicle on the parking area pulls your eye and you watch your father exit the car. “You called my dad?!” You feel anger boiling inside of you. Literally anyone else would be fine, but **_your dad_**?  
  
“I know, I know, but they were putting you in handcuffs, Bec. It looked pretty serious.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean you call my dad!” You think about punching Jesse or just taking off. Hell, even prison seems more appealing than this situation right here.  
  
“Who else was I gonna call? Okay, why are you yelling at me? I’m the only one here.”  
  
“I didn’t ask you to be.” You didn’t need anyone to come get you or save you or whatever this boy thinks he did. You had everything under control and now he ruined it. You could tear his head off right here, right now, but what will that bring you? This idiot thought he did something that would help you. It’s not his fault he’s _fucking stupid_.  
  
“Dad, it’s not a big deal.” You say to the man who’s approaching you, knowing he is going to freak out no matter what you say.  
  
“It is a big deal. I get a call in the middle of the night saying my daughter’s been arrested for destruction of property.”  
  
_It’s only like nine o’clock but whatever.  
_  
You try to tell your father it was a misunderstanding, but like so many times before, he just doesn’t listen. “You’re not even going to hear what I have to say about this?” You don’t know why you’re even asking.  
  
“Not tonight, no. Just get in the car, Beca.”  
  
The chances are higher that you’ll be walking back into that police station. “No way in hell. I’m not going anywhere with you.”  
  
The man sighs exhaustingly. “I paid your bail, Beca. You’re getting in the car.”  
  
“I didn’t ask you to!” You’re getting frustrated, because all these people are doing things you didn’t ask of them. For once, you just want someone to listen to you and have faith you’ll deal with the shit you get into by yourself. You don’t need help. You don’t need someone calling your dad or waiting for you outside of a cop station. You need someone who listens to you, like Chloe, who just leaves and trusts you when you say you’ll be back.  
  
“Who else is going to get you out, Beca? No one else was going to do it. All you have is me now, so get into the car, please.”  
  
It hits you like a fist to the stomach and you instantly feel like throwing up. You know all too well you don’t have anyone but him, but if that’s the case, then you don’t want anyone at all.  
  
“Actually-“  
  
It’s a man’s voice. A voice you recognize immediately, but because of the dizziness over the punch your dad just threw, it takes you a second to match a person to it.  
  
“-I was just on my way.” Kevin puts his two big hands around your face and shifts it to the right and left pulling rather funny faces. “You don’t look uglier than before, so I think you’re good, right?”  
  
You shake your head and his hands leave your skin. “I’m fine, get off of me.” You say grumpy, but he’s laughing at you, unharmed by your words.  
  
“Alright, great. Ready to go, kid?” He asks and keeps his eyes on you, waiting to see what your answer is and he looks like he’ll be fine with either.  
  
“Yeah.” You decide. “Let’s go.”  
  
“Beca, what’s going on?” Your dad speaks. You kind of wish Kevin would walk away, unlock his car and drive you home, but he stays in place, so you’re forced to do the same. “I came all this way to get you, who even is this man?”  
  
Maybe you’d feel bad about your dad driving for three hours if he didn’t just do it because you have no one else, but actually because he cared.  
  
“You’re right, sir. I wouldn’t just let my daughter leave with a stranger either.” Kevin laughs a little as he crosses the space between him and your dad and he shakes his hand. “My name is Kevin. I was send to pick up Beca. I’m her manager.”  
  
“Her what?” Your father asks confused, but seemingly more assured.  
  
“I’m her manager, sir. Beca is one of my DJs. I’d say the best I got, but she’s already a cocky one, am I right?”  
  
_You’re not cocky, you’re just great. There’s a difference, you think.  
_  
“Now I’m not looking for any trouble, I’m just here to take Beca home and I’ll leave the rest to the two of you.”  
  
Your dad doesn’t agree willingly, but he doesn’t have much of a choice, so he falters and you get in the car with Kevin while Jesse gets in the car with your dad. You don’t care much about that. The guy needs a ride, so it makes sense for the traitor to get in the car with the quitter.  
  
(Although you’re also a quitter, so maybe he’s Quitter Senior.)  
  
You question Kevin on the way back and it turns out Beale called him and said you might need his help. For him to leave the club on a Friday night just to come get you out of Carolina’s county jail means more to you than you’ll ever show.  
  
After a while, Kevin puts on a few tracks for you to listen to and you try to focus, but the decrease in conversation just makes it easier for you to think. You got mad at two people tonight for doing something you didn’t tell them to do, but somehow you’re not mad at Chloe.  
  
It seems Chloe was the only one who got it right tonight.  
  
You don’t know how, but the girl knows what you need. She knew you wanted her to take care of the Bellas, since that’s her job, but instead of just leaving you be, which would also be fine, she called Kevin. Probably the only right person in this scenario.  
  
You don’t know how it got to this point. You don’t know how she suddenly got to know you so well. You don’t know why she was the only person who helped you tonight; actually **_helped_** you.  
  
Chloe gets you. She listens and understands, even when words aren’t spoken. She knows what you need. She knows what will piss you off and what doesn’t. She could’ve just as easily called your dad, but she didn’t. You wonder if that was even a thing she considered or if that was never an option.  
  
“You’ve got a good one there, kiddo. The girl. You know that, right?” Kevin says just in between songs. You know he doesn’t need an answer, because the new song is blasting through the car and he’s happily singing along a little off key.  
  
“I know.”

* * *

  
“Thanks for the ride, loser.”  
  
“Anytime, criminal.”  
  
You slam Kevin’s car door shut and head towards your dorm. The few hours you spent in his car have really had some kind of therapeutic reaction for you. He always seems to calm you down or relax your mind by simply not forcing you into conversations. When you think about it, he and Chloe have kind of similar effects on you.  
  
Except that Chloe talks a lot, but not necessarily forces you into it. It’s easy to talk to the girl. As easy as the silence is between you and Kevin.  
  
You’re inside the dorm and there’s great noise coming from the room you share with Chloe, so you’re not exactly surprised when you find a room full of Bellas who of course all have jokes to make about jail.  
  
“You guys waited up for me?” Your eyes automatically find Chloe’s and you don’t even need her to say anything, because you can already tell you were wrong. She’s not hurt, she’s not disappointed, she’s not mad. And she’s not going to leave you.  
  
She’s the same happy girl as before and you don’t know if anyone could take that away from her. You think this girl will always be happy and smiling, no matter who’s in her life or not. You don’t believe anyone could take that smile away from her, as she’s her own source of happiness.  
  
“Thanks for calling Kevin.” You’re able to tell the girl when all of the Bellas are gone and Chloe herself is out of sight. Somehow, even small things like this, like a ‘thank you’, is easier to say to someone who’s eyes are not on you.  
  
“I didn’t feel like turning a bus full of girls around just to bail you out.” Chloe jokes before telling you honestly you’re welcome. “Tell me what happened.” She says when she’s curled up under her covers and her face resting on the pillow, turned towards you.  
  
“About jail?” You ask and the girl just nods her head cutely. “Alright, but promise me no matter how cool and fun this story sounds, you’re not going to go around punching people.”  
  
Chloe laughs and you would spend every day in jail if it means you could come home to Chloe laughing like that. “I promise, now tell me! Did you have to wear one of those suits?” She asks with her nose crunched up.  
  
“That’s prison, nerd.” You laugh at how dumb she’s being.  
  
“Well I don’t know!” The girl yelps out, but you can’t stop laughing, which is very likely the reason she starts throwing pillows at your face.  
  
“I could keep my own clothes on, which by the way, thank you for that. Thanks for making me go to jail dressed like a flight attendant.” You mock the girl who’s mouth falls open in shock.  
  
“Becs! Don’t be mean!” Chloe pouts. “I didn’t know you were going to be breaking noses and windows!”  
  
“Hey, it was one nose, okay?!”  
  
You don’t think you’ve ever had someone, a friend, where laughter comes so easy to during conversation. You’re not a laughing kind of person, but with Chloe it seems it’s all you do.  
  
The girl asks questions about jail and you answer them, more so mocking her for thinking that there would be a bed and bathroom in there.  
  
“-And then this guard woke me up and said I could go since my bail was paid.”  
  
“He woke you up?!” The girl acts like she’s in shock. “Where did you hide his body?”  
  
_God, she’s such a dick.  
_  
“Right next to Jesse’s, since he was the one that called my dad to pay my bail.”  
  
Chloe explains she knew Jesse was going to the police station, but she says she didn’t know he would call your dad. You continue about the argument with your dad and how he didn’t even let you explain the situation. You tell her the moment Kevin stepped in and how you listened to new tracks on your way back.  
  
“That’s so crazy.” Chloe says when you’ve finished telling her about your eventful day.  
  
“Yeah, I was really glad Kevin was there, or I’d have finished my night in jail probably.”  
  
“Shut up, you wouldn’t.” Chloe grins a little. “You would have just called me.”  
  
“I would?” You ask surprised.  
  
“Well, probably not.” She says as she blows air out her nose and lets the smile rest on her lips without expanding or reducing. “But I’m just letting you know you have that option.”  
  
You don’t know if you’ll ever take that option, as you’re way too stubborn to let people help you at times, but you know Chloe’s being sincere and you think you can keep it in mind.  
  
For her.

* * *

  
“Becs, get up. It’s seven thirty.”  
  
“That means I have twenty-nine more minutes to sleep.” You groan as you hide your face under your pillow and blankets.  
  
Not for the first time that week, Chloe has to drag you out of bed and keep you out of it, because every opportunity you get, you slip through the girls fingers to get back to the warmth that is your bed.  
  
“Beca, you’re such a child.” Chloe giggles as she pulls you out from under the covers for the fifth time that morning. “We have practice in fifteen minutes and you’re not even dressed yet.”  
  
“I don’t wanna.” You complain with a pout while Chloe throws you clean clothes and you kick your pants off while complaining some more.  
  
“You’re lucky I like this task.” Chloe speaks when she pulls your shirt over your head and takes a few seconds before trading it for another. You groan and let your head rest against the girl’s shoulder, trying to see if you can sleep standing up like that. “Becs, we have to hurry.” Chloe whispers, but her voice is sweet and all too kind, you know that if you wrap your arms around her body, there’s a chance she might let you stay in this room.  
  
Which is exactly what you do and Chloe puts her arms around you as well, but you get away with it only for about half a minute before the girl starts urging you to start moving again, yet she’s not particularly breaking out of your arms. You shift your face into the crook of the girls neck and lock your hands together behind the girl’s back.  
  
And it would be weird and uncomfortable had this been anyone else. But it’s Chloe. You can stand in her arms, head resting on her shoulder while trying to get a few more seconds of sleep any day if she would let you.  
  
You arrive a minute late to practice that day, but Aubrey is smart and doesn’t complain about those 60 seconds, which you reckon would also be her time left on this earth if she had opened her mouth.

* * *

  
Both your dad and Jesse have been texting you nonstop and you know it will only be a matter of time before one of them shows up on your doorstep, so you tell your ginger friend you’re fleeing the campus and she is all too happy about joining you.  
  
You end up in the mall with an overly excited child that has taken over your roommate’s body, apparently. Chloe makes it her job to drag you into every store and try on as much clothing items and jewelry as she can.  
  
“Becs, I haven’t been shopping in ages. I am so happy right now!” She tells you for the umpteenth time that day while exiting another shop with three new bags in her hands.  
  
Without much verbal communication, you take the bags from her hand and let her ramble on about what new dress she bought. You’re not exactly listening to the words she’s saying, but you like the sound of her voice when she’s happy like this.  
  
Three long hours later and you’re not sure you could physically hold any more shopping bags. It’s not all Chloe’s, though. You bought two pairs of sneakers and some new equipment you found in this great electronics store, along with another set of headphones that you just couldn’t resist buying.  
  
“Why do you even need so many headphones?” Chloe had giggled while you stopped for a coffee break mid-afternoon. “Why do you need twenty pair of pants?!” You had thrown back. _You got her there_.  
  
Soon after that stop, it seemed you had seen most shops in the mall, so you wandered around a little while Chloe told you which of her new clothes she’s bringing with her to Kansas for Thanksgiving and when she’ll wear what outfit. Since you’ve seen her changing into all those clothes she bought during the course of the day, it’s quite easy to picture her in a mixture of them -the shirt she bought in the third store combined with the pants she went back for after debating it for an hour, together with the fake glasses she just _had_ to buy at that annoying, cramped up little shop where she also bought a silver ring would make a great outfit for the first day.  
  
“What are you going to take with you?” She asks you after having all her new clothes made into perfect outfits.  
  
“I’m gonna aim for something clean.” You state with faked seriousness, making your friend laugh and punch your shoulder. You could have dodged her touch, but really, why would you? “So you want to get food here or eat back at campus?” You ask as you pass some restaurants and your stomach makes a loud protest to inform you that the single sandwich you had for lunch has done its part in providing you energy.  
  
“Oh, I totally forgot!” Chloe yelps out while her feet pull to a stop. “I have dinner plans with Hannah tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whatever will Beca's reaction be to this whole date thing? ;)
> 
> This chapter was kind of necessary for the way Beca sees Chloe and I didn't want to have that shift to the background just to include the date-situation, so that'll be the next chap, hope y'all understand!
> 
> Let me know what you think so far and what you'd like to see happening! Thanks everyone for reading!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Aren’t we all waiting to be read by someone, praying that they’ll tell us that we make sense?" -Rudy Franciso
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Just FYI; this chapter is gonna be a little bit different, you'll see as you read obviously, but the POV's aren't fairly divided as usual. We start with a bit from Chloe's perspective and the rest (main part) is from Beca's, for the simply reason that I kinda wanted to join Beca on her side while Chloe has gone out, so y'all are just as in the dark as Beca. 
> 
> We'll get a large perspective from Chloe's side in the next chapter!

You hadn’t thought shopping with Beca would be as much fun as it is, although you have fun with pretty much every activity that involves yourself and your tiny, grumpy friend. The girl keeps her complaints to a minimal, obviously to protect her tough look and hide that she actually likes to shop to a certain extent. You have no intention of exposing her, so you let her roll her eyes and sigh every time you pull her with you into a store that _‘looks just like the other six you went into, Beale!’_  
  
You think it’s kind of cute, actually. Her need to go against every ordinary thing.  
  
But she can’t fool you. You see her checking out some clothes occasionally –always something black- and you can tell how every single muscle in her face moves when you’ve caught her. She’s always looking extremely neutral when looking at the items, and then her cheeks just turn a little red when she notices you’re staring. Sometimes you think you can’t even see the light fluster on her face, but you can always _feel_ it, as if it radiates straight to your soul. Then there’s a split second where she ponders turning away from you to escape the situation, yet her eyes always snap up to yours next and she’ll ask you what you’re looking at while her jaw is clenched and her eyes betray her anger.  
  
All you have to do is stare with a large smile or wink at her to get her jaw relaxed again, mostly combined with one last act to try and save her face; that roll of her eyes you’ve come to know so well. That roll you can never hate, because it’s literally a sign for Beca caving and that’s one thing you can’t get enough of.  
  
Like most things, you’ve come to know, Beca’s hate for the mall is only limited. She actually seems to like the footwear stores, the entertainment shops and of course the food corners. But outlets and stores with a high population of customers per square feet is a definite and intense hatred source. For that reason, you try to walk by most of those, only going in when you know you’ll find something you like in there. Beca will follow you in though, complaining of course, but only for a few minutes before checking out the next store or waiting for you outside.  
  
You actually think it’s nice like that. You don’t have to be around each other all the time and she doesn’t have to be anywhere she’s not comfortable just because you’re there. You know Beca hates it when there’s a lot of people in one room and the chances of being involuntarily touched by strangers is much higher. You spot her flinching every now and then, her guard full up and her body tensed. You remember that used to be her constant state of mind whenever she was around you.  
  
Now, the hand you put in hers seem to almost calm her down.  
  
You’ve come quite a long way. And you’re excited for the way ahead of you. Thanksgiving with your family is the first big thing up next, but you’re excited for it all. You want to win Nationals with Beca this year. You want to see your friend passing classes and making it to her second, third, and,  eventually, last year in college. You want to see her becoming a music producer. You want to see her become all that she wants and you hope you will be around for all of that.  
  
After a day like today, where it’s just you and Beca hanging out, laughing and occasionally flirting, it’s really not your fault you forgot all about your dinner plans with Hannah. Beca makes fun of you for the entire cab ride home, which you allow to happen, because your friend seems to be enjoying herself with jokes about the two of you. You’re just glad she isn’t making this whole thing bigger than it is, because it’s really just dinner. Agreeing to it being a date was a mistake and you’re glad you settled that with Hannah. You did the right thing by cancelling the date and just going for dinner. To be frank, you don’t even care anymore if you spend your every waking hour thinking about Beca.  
  
You believe she’s worth that now.  
  
And Hannah is your friend, so dinner is completely fine and normal. You go out and grab dinner with friends all the time. You’re actually looking forward to spend an evening talking about art and ancient things with the girl, although you’d have no problem staying in your shared room with Beca.  
  
“I think I like this one best.” You say as you fix the dress you just changed into and rip off the price tag at the back with one skilled hand.  
  
“You do know you have tried them all on in the store already?” Beca notices smug as she’s installing some new sort of DJ thing to her previous DJ thing.  
  
(In your defense, she was explaining what it is she bought while changing into sweatpants, so it’s no wonder you didn’t hear a word she said.)  
  
“I’m thinking either this one or the previous one for Thanksgiving dinner, what do you think?” You ask the girl who’s lying on her bed with her laptop and other hardware equipment scattered around her on the mattress.  
  
“Uh-“ Beca’s eyes leave her screen and inspect you as if this is the utter most important question on the earth. “-I like this one.” She finally says with her eyes fixated on you. “Also, why don’t you ever use your questions anymore?” Beca asks out of the blue.  
  
“Because you tell me what I want to know without a little pressure.” You state truthfully and with a wink. You didn’t forget about the six remaining questions you still have left out of that ten, but you don’t need them anymore to get Beca to speak with you or admit something you have doubts about.  
  
“So we can just annul them?” Beca says carefully, as if she knows your answer.  
  
“Nope.” You say as check out your new purchase in the mirror, deciding that Beca’s right and this one’s better than the other one you had in mind. “I’m saving them.” You decide, because you never know when you might need them and maybe if you hold onto them long enough, it will prevent you from losing Beca.  
  
You unzip yourself just when there’s a knock on the door and you don’t think much of it, maybe some of the guys in your building inviting you to one of their parties like they do on most Saturdays. Instead, you’re met with a petite girl in a dress, flowers in one hand and the other one awkwardly clutched to her side.  
  
“Hannah.” You don’t know why you feel the need to say the girl’s name, as if she doesn’t know it herself, yet that’s the prior and only thing that exits your mouth when you see her. “I thought we were meeting at the restaurant?” You ask as politely as you can make your voice sound.  
  
“I figured I’d come pick you up.” The girl says with a lovely smile that does absolutely nothing to you. “I got you these, I don’t know if you like flowers, but-“  
  
“They’re great!” You yelp out in a way too high pitched tone as you take the gift from the girl’s hands. “Can you give me just one minute?” You ask with your best sweet eyes to which the girl nods and takes a step back. You quickly close the door and run towards the closet, dropping the flowers on your bed along the way.  
  
“Hiding now, are we, Beale?” Beca appears in the doorway as you struggle to get out of the tight dress. The girl scoffs when you hop and stumble and makes no attempt at all to help.  
  
“She thinks this is a date.” You say, surprised by the level of dramatics in your voice. “It’s not a date.” You feel the need to empathize that.  
  
“So tell her.” Beca replies cool, picking some clothing item off the ground, smelling it and shrugging before throwing it back into her side of the closet.  
  
“You can’t just tell someone, Beca! I have to inform her without words.” You decide as you search through stacks of clothes.  
  
“And you’re gonna do that by?” Beca’s voice goes up, suggesting you pitch in with your great idea.  
  
“Clothes.” You state confident and sure of yourself as you find a plain shirt and get your legs into some jeans.  
  
“Of course.” Beca sighs. “Why would you tell someone when you could just dress to un-impress, which isn’t working by the way.”  
  
You have no time to question what your friend is talking about. You have to get into these ordinary looking clothes, have a normal, friendly dinner with this girl and end it there. There’s no need to be rude right away. Maybe she buys every friend flowers, you don’t know.  
  
“Okay, I will be back in like an hour, two hours tops.” You state while spraying perfume on yourself and fixing your hair. “I’ll see you before you leave for the club, right?”  
  
“Probably not.” Beca sounds annoyed and tired, not really in the mood for conversation.  
  
You wish you had the time to check up on her, but you’ve locked your friend out for at least five whole minutes and you just have to trust Beca will be here when you get back.  
  
You grab your purse and cellphone and meet Hannah in the hallway. You apologize for taking so long, but she doesn’t seem to mind. The walk to the restaurant is rather cold, but not at all uncomfortable with the girl chatting about her upcoming projects for Paul’s class.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
When Chloe told you she had dinner plans with the art chick, it was safe to say it didn’t bother you all that much. You figured it was just dinner with a friend, which is one thing Chloe Beale has plenty of. And you are and will not put yourself in a position where you get jealous over the time she spends with her friends.  
  
That is of course until the person behind the knock on your shared room’s door shows a girl all dressed up and flowers in her hands. It reminds you of that time you found her in front of that flower shop and how that was so funny to you.  
  
Well, it’s not funny anymore.  
  
This has suddenly become quite real. Flowers make dinner plans quite real.  
  
And it doesn’t surprise you that your roommate seemed unaware of the exact plans that were made, being as oblivious and innocent as she is.  
  
It takes all the energy in your body to rise from your bed and walk into that closet space to find your friend. She’s undressing in a panic and for a second you forget where she’ll be in a few minutes and with someone who isn’t you, so you laugh at the sight. You laugh until something twists inside of you and you’re lucky Chloe’s eyes weren’t on you, because you’re sure she would have noticed.  
  
Instead of dealing with that knot, you feel yourself getting angry at your roommate. The fact that she can’t just tell this girl it isn’t a date is probably exactly what got her here in the first place. She’s too nice, telling someone off by the way she dresses. What kind of logic even is that?  
  
You head out of the small room to lay down on your bed. You don’t want to look at the girl anymore. You don’t want to see her getting ready to go out with someone. Someone who isn’t you.  
  
Not that you want to go out with her on a _date_.  
  
Do you?  
  
Why else are you getting so angry over this?  
  
“Okay, I will be back in like an hour, two hours tops.” Chloe tells you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You have no intention of staying in this room to wait until she gets back. You know that if you do, you’re just going to imagine things and wonder why it’s taking so long and the things that would creep in your mind wouldn’t consist out of anything good.  
  
You’ll drive yourself crazy.  
  
So when you hear the door close shut and it’s quiet in the room where Chloe’s voice usually fills it, you can’t get out of there fast enough. You head to Jesse’s dorm room across campus where you find him with his alleged roommate doing some weird sort of magic trick which involved cards and a hat and, -is that a rabbit?  
  
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” You state as you enter the room, making no attempt to leave though.  
  
“No, Beca, come in. This is Benji, my roommate. Benji, this is Beca.”  
  
You try to shake the boy’s hand, but instead he pulls a quarter out from behind your ear and he seems the most proud of that action out of everyone in the room.  
  
“That’s great.” You state sarcastic, referring to the current situation you’re in instead of the trick the boy pulled.  
  
“Yeah, how about you show that trick to Cal next door?” Jesse offers and the childish boy practically runs out of the room. When he’s gone, it’s silent and you suddenly doubt if coming here was a good idea, since Jesse and you aren’t on the best terms. “Beca, I’m sorry about the whole-“  
  
“It’s fine.” You cut in. You didn’t exactly come here for apologies and you certainly are not in the mood to discuss your father.  
  
“I tried to reach you all day, I didn’t know about everything and I didn’t know who to call. Your dad told me some things in the car and I just-“  
  
“It’s fine.” You state again, hoping, wishing, praying the guy will shut up about it as you sit down on his bed and scan the room for a topic change. There’s quite a lot, you don’t even know where to start.  
  
“So you forgive me, Be-caw?” He says in his normal, obnoxious tone of voice again as he takes a seat beside you.  
  
“Sure, loser.” And you do. He probably meant well, and you’re honestly over the moment. You have other things on your mind right now.  
  
“So did you come here to continue the movie-cation? I knew I could turn you!” The boy yelps as he grabs his laptop and immediately there’s a video player on screen, as if all he does on the device is watching movies.  
  
You don’t want to think about the real reason you came here, but you guess a cheerful Jesse explaining a stupid movie is the best you can do to keep your mind off of things right now.  
  
Although you wonder.  
  
You wonder if Chloe would go out with you if you brought her flowers and took her to a restaurant or a movie. If you would dress up nice for her and actually showed her you appreciate her, instead of simply sleeping with her and then heading back to your own bed to get a good night’s rest.  
  
You wonder if you could ever be that person who would be able to show her she cares. You’re not particularly good at that, or any of the other relationship kind of qualities you should possess.  
  
It’s really no wonder this point has come where Chloe has gone out with someone.  
  
What the two of you have is nothing more than a deal, so of course she goes out and meets people she would potentially start dating. It makes sense. Your deal is to cover her sexual needs, and nothing more than that.  
  
But it still sucks.  
  
It’s not like you didn’t try. In your own way, you tried. But not leaving isn’t exactly a good enough criteria for a relationship.  
  
Not that you **_want_** a relationship with that stupid redhead, but so to speak. You thought maybe you could figure it out. Maybe at some point..  
  
But you just let her walk out of that room without lifting a finger. You let her walk into someone else’s arms, and that’s all on you. Because simply being there isn’t enough. Sometimes you have to fight, and though you are great at fighting people, you doubt you’re any good fighting _for_ people.  
  
You doubt you could use your fists for that.  
  
“Beca, pay attention, this is a good part!” Jesse shoulder-checks you and you force your eyes to focus, but all you can see is Chloe and that stupid girl.  
  
The knot that settled in your stomach earlier has twisted itself in a whirlwind ever since and it feels like it will swallow you whole. You don’t know how to stop it. You want to fight it, punch it, break it, but feelings don’t work like that.  
  
“Chloe’s on a date.” You force the words out and for a second or two, the whirling inside of you seems to pause.  
  
Jesse’s face shrinks in confusion before he throws his hand on the laptop and pushes it off of his lap. “She’s on a date?” He asks for confirmation. “With whom?!”  
  
“Some girl she knows.” You try to sound indifferent, but it comes out through grinned teeth and you curse yourself for sounding so jealous.  
  
“And you just came here instead of stopping her?” Jesse asks surprised and starts pacing the room, as if this is for him to fix.  
  
“Well, I’m not gonna tell her what to do!” You reply agitated, more so at yourself than the boy trying to help. “If this is what she wants..” You don’t want to finish that sentence.  
  
“Beca, I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She doesn’t want to go out with anyone else.”  
  
You lift your eyebrows quickly before dropping them and you shrug, because the fact remains that she did. She might not have known it was a date, she might not have wanted it to be a date, but she went anyway.  
  
“Did you not see how she was crying when you got cuffed and dragged away by that cop?!” Jesse’s hands are on your shoulders and you know he’s just trying to make a point, but you were right there, of course you saw her cry. “She cares so much about you, alright? I find it hard to believe she wants to go on a date with someone else twenty-four hours later. Unless something happened.” The boy says with his finger pointing at you.  
  
“I didn’t do anything!” You say with your hands up defensively, but the young man doesn’t takes your word for it, so you’re forced to tell him about the day you spent with her and how it was actually pretty okay. Sure, you mopped a lot in the mall, but Chloe knows that’s just a thing you do.  
  
“That has to be it.” Jesse says after hearing you out. “It might seem like you don’t want to spend time with her.” He concludes. “You have to be nicer. Be a nice person.”  
  
Your face turns into a mix of disgust and confusion. “What the fuck?” You speak with your teeth pressed together. You can’t just change yourself into someone who’s _nice_. What kind of advice is that?  
  
But the guy is trying, so you don’t tear his head off. Just yet.  
  
After another round of useless advice, you decide that the movie might be less terrible to watch than Jesse trying to understand reasons behind your roommate’s decision. Thank God the movie only lasts another half an hour and then you make up some excuse to leave the guy’s room.  
  
It’s still rather early, but you walk to the club anyway. You spend some time in Kevin’s office where you try to hit him in the head with several items you find while he works on his finance. Around ten o’clock, he finally buys you a drink and you hang out at the bar while he tells you he has a new DJ in training.  
  
“Replacing me already?” You ask while you finish your beer, but Kevin just shakes his head.  
  
“Just a backup in case some big shots from LA come and steal you away from me.” He says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.  
  
“You know I’m not going anywhere without my manager.” You say with a smile, knowing that while it’s easy for you to leave everything behind, it’s not so easy for everyone else. And if the situation would presume itself, maybe in a million years, you would want nothing more than for Kevin to come with you to LA, but he has a life here, his own club. Things normal people wouldn’t leave behind.  
  
“Anyway, the kid is coming in tonight, told him he could play for a couple of hours.”  
  
“On my night?!” You say insulted, but Kevin simply shrugs. “Fine.” You cave, still slightly annoyed someone gets some of your working time. “But I take the first shift! I’m not gonna play for an empty floor, God knows what this newbie will do to our club.” You mumble as you watch the first groups of people enter the floor.  
  
“Our club now?”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
You start your gig early that night, eager to still play for a good set of hours and also to get a certain person off of your mind. Kevin already did a solid job on that, but there’s still images being created by your mind as to what the two girls might be doing at this hour, or in a few hours.  
  
Kevin comes by your booth around one and says the kid is getting ready and you have to wrap up your set. You didn’t even play for three hours and the place is packed with people. This new guy could ruin the entire evening. If people leave this soon, you don’t want to think about what it does to the sales volume of the week. Saturdays are the best nights of the week.  
  
“I’ll have you save the day if he screws up.” Kevin promises you with a cheeky smile.  
  
“It’ll cost you.” You throw back and he waves his hand at that offer, laughingly walking out of the booth.  


* * *

  
The new guy comes in ten minutes later and he’s quite chatty, so you already dislike him. You meet Kevin back at the bar and watch the guy around your own age play his set. He’s not bad. He’s not great either. He crushes songs either too early or too late, which most of the people on the floor don’t notice, but you sure do. His loops are weird and you’re pretty sure he only uses half of the equipment there.  
  
“He’s not bad.” Kevin yells into your ear.  
  
“He’s not me.” You reply cocky and with a shrug that would indicate you’re sorry, although you’re so not.  


* * *

  
You leave the club around two when you’re positive this guy won’t drive out the crowd and head home, afraid of whatever you might find there. One girl, two girls, no girl. You don’t know which one would be the worst out of those options.  
  
The part which you would normally walk in five minutes, you now do in fifteen. You couldn’t move slower if you tried. You just really don’t want to go back to that room. You decide you’re just going to walk in blind and head straight to bed and not even take notion of anything in the room.  
  
It seems like a solid plan until you reach your floor and there are guys in dresses running around, almost body slamming into you. You hear someone throwing up in the hallway behind you, causing you to be eager to reach your room. Because of all the commotion, your ears are running without the intend to when you open the door with a key in hand, which is the very reason you hear the soft sound coming from Chloe’s side of the room.  
  
It’s pitch dark, but you see her.  
  
She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands, elbows resting on her knees.  
  
There’s no more sound and you start to wonder if you imagined it while softly closing the door. But there it is again. A soft sniff. You think you can actually hear a tear hitting the ground and then you move.  
  
Fast.  
  
You’re in front of the girl in a matter of milliseconds, checking her skin for any visible scars, which would be hard to do in the dark, would you not know every bit of this girl’s body. You let your hands slide over her legs and arms, searching for anything that would give any indication of why she’s crying.  
  
“Chloe, what happened?! Who did this?”  
  
The girl doesn’t seem physically hurt, but that doesn’t stop your hands from checking over and over again. The only thing that seems off is her face. It’s completely drained in tears. You try to wipe them away, but it seems they just keep coming.  
  
“Chloe, look at me. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened.” You take notice that her skin is uncommonly cold and you waste no time to wrap one of the blankets from her bed around her body. You continue to move your hands over her skin, both to warm her up and out of fear that if you’re not in contact with the girl, the worst thing will happen.  
  
Chloe’s still not looking at you, but the tears don’t stream excessively anymore and her breathing gets evened out. You think she’s starting to calm down, while you feel yourself getting anything but calm.  
  
Your mind has put two and two together without much of your conscious effort and anger rises inside of you almost as quick as your feet lifting you up.  
  
“Beca, where are you going?”  
  
The voice is soft, but it’s not clear. It’s like someone’s talking to you while you’re underwater and if her hand wasn’t holding yours in a tight grip, you would most likely still be moving your feet, out the door, out the building.  
  
“If she fucking put her hands on you, I swear..” The words you’re able to speak through grinned teeth darken the room even more and they take away the sight, replacing it with the view of your friend being touched without consent. You don’t want to know to what extent. You just want to search the entire premises to find the girl your roommate left with earlier tonight and you want to rip her head off.  
  
But Chloe’s hands tightens and because of that, you don’t move. You stay in place, eyes locked on the doorknob while contemplating how fast you can make your feet fly across campus as soon as you’re out of the girl’s touch. You can practically feel boiling blood rising from your feet through your veins, all the way up as if you’re a ticking time bomb, waiting for it to reach your head and set off a certain attack.  
  
And if you could pinpoint the exact spot to where the boiling anger was able to rise, you’d say it just reached your jaw when Chloe pulled you back to her with one simple drag of your hand. You comply and you fall back down on your knees in front of the girl. The anger doesn’t necessarily make its way down again, but at least it doesn’t climb any more.  
  
You don’t know if that’s a good thing.  
  
You’ve never had it stopped like this. You’ve only ever let it reach your head which of course led to a fight. But a time bomb like your rage doesn’t get dismantled. Nothing and no one ever could. Not until Chloe’s hand squeezing yours.  
  
“Beca, please don’t leave me alone.” Chloe whispers and the crack in her voice feels like a punch to your throat. The tears are travelling down the girl’s cheeks again in a fast pace. You have no other choice but to release the tension in your hands to try and comfort your friend with actions where you know your words would leave you, if you tried.  
  
“I’m not.” You speak when you have decided you’re not going anywhere. “But I don’t know what to do if you won’t talk to me.” You sound as helpless as you actually are.  
  
“Can we talk in the morning?”   
  
You only now realize how tired your friend looks, so you’re quick to nod your head. “Of course.” You say when her eyes finally find yours in the pitch dark room and you don’t know why you smile, but Chloe smiles back a little. You’re a little bit more assured she’s physically okay, so you move over Chloe’s bed and pull your friend’s body into the piece of furniture with your arms around her upper body. She doesn’t fight you when you cover her with blankets. Instead of leaving the girl’s bed that night, you stay there with your roommate’s head on your chest and your arms wrapped around her.  
  
You end the night thinking about how you’ll be able to protect this girl from the world from now on.  


* * *

  
You don’t sleep a lot that night, but whenever you drift away for a bit, you startle awake and you curse yourself over it every damn time. You’re not used to sleeping in a bed with someone you care about, so every movement that awakes you, readies you to strangle the person who’s so close to you when you’re sleeping and vulnerable.  
  
But hurting this girl is the exact opposite of what you want. You have some time to think while the girl is sound asleep on and beside your body and you’re incapable of sleeping anyway. You try to consider other options, but the only thing your mind can come up with is Hannah forcing herself on your friend.   
  
It angers you, because you doubt this is the first time someone took advantage of the kindness that is Chloe Beale. You’ve seen it in little things, with her best friend, but you knew in the back of your mind that it was always possible in a bigger matter. She’s too fucking innocent, too nice for this world.  
  
And when sunlight creeps through the blinds in your room and the day begins, you force yourself to wake the girl, deciding you can’t go another minute without knowing exactly to what extent the line was crossed.  
  
But Chloe seems to have gone back to her usual self as she hops out of bed and makes herself some tea. “I’m really sorry you had to see me like that.”  
  
“I don’t care.” You speak rather annoyed by your friend’s downplay. “Just tell me what happened.” You head towards your own side of the room, but Chloe is still not talking. “Did she..?” You beam, unsure if you can handle the answer.  
  
“What? Oh no! No, she didn’t, Becs.”  
  
You can finally breathe again, so you sigh a little too loud, making your friend’s eyebrows lift in question. “That’s good news. For her.” You add. “I already had a few ways to murder her in mind.” You say truthfully, but Chloe laughs as if it’s a joke. You guess she doesn’t have to know you’re actually being sincere.  
  
“You’re the worst.” She giggles before lifting her knees to her chest and resting her head on top of them.  
  
“You’re gonna tell me what happened now?”  
  
“It’s not that a big deal, Becs.” She answers calmly.  
  
“Not a big deal? I come home in the middle of the night and find you inconsolable!” You don’t mean to yell, but you’re tired of the girl beating around it. You want to know what happened, stat.  
  
“It’s just embarrassing.” Chloe gives as an answer, her eyes shining and her smile soft.  
  
“I don’t give two shits.” You state mad. You don’t believe your friend for a second when she says nothing happened. “Either you tell me, or I find that fucking girl and I’ll beat it out of her.” You can’t say you hate the thought of that. You’ve been wanting to punch this girl since the day you saw her staring at your friend in that classroom.  
  
But Chloe stops you when you make an attempt to leave the room and she drops down next to you on your bed before speaking. “She just kissed me.”  
  
The knot in your stomach returns and you hate how every fiber in your body tells you to run, because you don’t want to run. “You didn’t want that?” You swallow away the dirty taste in your mouth and try to sound like a friend who cares, but it’s hard when your jaw won’t unlock and your hands are shut so tight that it physically hurts.  
  
“Of course I didn’t.” Chloe says offensive, speaking in a high pitched tone that indicates you’ve insulted her.  
  
“Did she, you know, force herself on you?” You don’t know why it’s suddenly so hard to form words, but it takes double the strength as it usually does. Not that they ever come easy to you.  
  
“No, no.” Chloe answers fast, and you hate how after all of this, she chooses to defend that stupid girl. “It was just kind of an eye-opener.”  
  
You have no idea what she’s talking about, but it doesn’t seem like your roommate’s going to elaborate. Instead of questioning her right away, you try to think. What could be eye-opening about kissing someone? You can’t come up with anything sane. “I don’t understand.” You say after a while.  
  
“We don’t have to make this a big deal, Beca.” The girl speaks as she gets off from your bed and lies down on her own.  
  
Your mind continues to race long after the girl has left your bed. Instead of thinking about what she didn’t say, you think about what she did say and do. Because facts are easier to figure out than unsaid words. And the facts are that you found her bawling her eyes out in the middle of the night, with the reason being that the stupid art student kissed her. She said it wasn’t forced, yet she didn’t want it.   
  
You already know your friend is way too pure for this world and she will dismiss herself completely for the sake of others. So it makes sense for her to stick up for Hannah and say she didn’t force herself on her, when she probably did. You don’t know what opened her eyes and to what, but you know that she’s going to continue to get used unless someone puts a stop to it.  
  
You’re out of the building in no time and you might not know where to start, you’re determined to find the girl who took your friend out last night.  
  
Half an hour later and you’ve spotted her outside of the library with a notebook and a pencil in hand, sitting next to a tree. Without thinking, you move your feet towards the girl, yet you wonder if Chloe would want you to fight a person she considers a friend, although you doubt there’s anyone she has met who she wouldn’t consider a friend.  
  
The idea in your head that you would slam her to the ground and let your actions speak for them slowly fade and by the time you’ve reached the young woman, the plan to attack her straight away ceases to exists. Yet you have never been one who deals with situation by words, so they don’t exactly come at you right away.  
  
“Hey. Aren’t you Chloe’s roommate?” The girl asks hesitant when you’ve pulled to a stop right in front of her without saying a word.  
  
“I’m her friend.” You correct, if only for the sake of having something to say. “And I’ll be anything but a friend to you if you put your hands on her again.” You try to sound threatening, but you’ve stumbled through the sentence and you curse yourself for not going for your initial instinct, because at least you’re good at that.  
  
“Put my hands on-“ The girl asks slowly and dumbfounded.  
  
“Don’t act fucking stupid with me.” You cut her off, because she might be able to play the sweet and naïve card with your roommate, but you see right through that crap. “I didn’t come here for that, alright? I didn’t come here to talk at all actually, so don’t make me regret this choice.”  
  
The girl’s face shifts and her mouth turns into a small grin. “It’s cute that you’re her watchdog.”  
  
“And I think it’s disgusting that you would take advantage of someone who only sees the good in people." You speak through grinned teeth and angry eyes. You don’t think anything has ever angered you as much as people using your roommate with the knowledge that she wouldn’t put up a fight.  
  
“Advantage?” The girl says in a laugh. “Is that what she told you?” She hesitates before continuing. “No, she didn’t. Because she knows I didn’t take advantage of her.” Her lips shifts downwards while you see her tongue moving over her teeth behind her lips. “She wanted it. Every single bit of it. Maybe even more than me.”  
  
It’s the way the girl speaks that gets under your skin and triggers you to impact her face with your fist. It feels like a weight of your shoulder to finally do what you came here to do. You just want to punch the arrogant grin off of the girl’s face or at least cover it with her own blood, so you won’t see it. “Touch her again. I dare you.” You whisper close to the girl who’s down on the ground. You lock eyes with her until she’s the first one to look away and then you walk away.  
  
You know you should feel bad, but it just felt so good.  
  
This girl, more than anything, deserved that hit to the face. You’re actually proud of yourself for keeping it to just one throw. God knows you’ve done worse for less.  
  
You don’t know if what you did was exactly justified, but it sure felt righteous.  
  
You don’t know if Chloe will agree with that, but at least you got the message across and you doubt the art student will ever dare the same thing again.  
  
You know she was playing you, trying to get you to believe Chloe actually wanted whatever happened, that kiss, the girl in general. And maybe if you hadn’t seen the tears fly from her eyes and fall to the floor, maybe if you hadn’t heard the desperation in her voice asking you to stay with her, maybe if you hadn’t held her while she fell asleep crying, there would be a chance you would fall for the trap and believe the girl’s words.  
  
For that reason, you stand by what you did and you have no regrets.  


* * *

  
You enter your room and plan to get some sleep before anything else, but Chloe’s in your face before you’re even able to fully get through the door.  
  
“Why is Hannah texting me she’s sorry and asking me to keep you away from her?”  
  
You’re really too tired to get into this right now, but your ginger friend doesn’t allow you to simply surpass her and get into bed. You sigh and stay defeated with your back against the wall. “Because she finally grew a brain?” You reply in a questioning manner, filled with sarcasm and weariness.  
  
“Beca!” Chloe scolds, her voice sounding as firm as you’ve ever heard it, which actually makes her even sexier, but you don’t think it’s the time or the place for that. “Where have you been?” She asks hopeful.  
  
“Went to see your so called friend.” You state dryly, keeping your eyes away from the girl but you can still feel her face grow with disappointment. You still don’t regret what you did, though. The girl had it coming.  
  
“You can’t fight my battles for me.”  
  
“Maybe if you stood up for yourself, I didn’t have to.”  
  
“I never asked you to!”  
  
The girl’s eyes grow teary, but you’re no longer allowed to dry them, because this time it’s you who has caused them. And you wish you could give her some comfort with words, but that’s just not you. “You’re too fucking innocent, I’ve told you this before! You just let people walk all over you and take what they want.”  
  
“That doesn’t give you the right to go around punching people!”  
  
“I didn’t _go around_ , it was a very targeted search.” You say as you grab a Red Bull and fall down on your bed, with your roommate closely following you.  
  
“Beca, this isn’t a joke.” Chloe’s voice turns from slightly mad to tired, as she sits down carefully next to you.  
  
You can handle the girl being mad at you, but if she’s tired of you, you don’t know how to deal with that.  
  
You keep quiet and wonder if what you did was indeed out of line. You didn’t do it because you thought your friend can’t take care of herself or because you’re some jealous, obsessed person. It just makes you angry when people use the girl for her good heart and when you’re angry, you act the way you did. You tried to keep it to words, you actually did this time. But you also know that trying means nothing and actions explain it all.  
  
“I just did it because I didn’t know what else to do. What I could do.” You give her as an explanation. You wish you had a better one to give, because God knows she deserves it. The image of Chloe’s watery and tired eyes last night is engraved on your retina and you want to make sure that’s the last time anyone hurts the girl.  
  
And since you don’t have the right words to comfort or support her, you went with the only thing you got and decided to fight off everything that could hurt her, which you see now has been rather blunt of you.  
  
It actually makes you feel like quite the failure. In these last couple of days, you have learned that Chloe knows you really well and has somehow given you exactly what you need. And now you had one chance to return that, and you most likely disappointed her.  
  
And if you were in a rational state of mind and actually thought things through, it would have been the easiest decision you’d have to make.  
  
You could have just stayed.  
  
In this room. With this girl. Maybe she would have told you about the previous night and what was so eye-opening. Now, you doubt she’ll ever tell you.  
  
You wish your first instinct wasn’t to always run.  
  
Chloe rests her head on your shoulder and her hand falls into yours. “I know.” She tells you while her thumb draws circles on your skin.  
  
“I’m sorry.” You say after minutes of comfortable silence, but you’re not apologizing for punching the girl. “For leaving.” You explain.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "I want to be the last person who ever kisses you… That sounds bad, like a death threat or something. What I’m trying to say is, you’re it. This is it for me." -Rainbow Rowell
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT!
> 
> After way too many smutless chapters, I figured it was time again for those detailed scenes instead of the casual hints of sex. So, you're welcome kids. Although I have a hard time calling anything I write "smut", but for the sake of things, let's call it that.
> 
> As promised, Chloe's POV in this chapter. Next one will be back to normal, switching from Beca's to Chloe's in a 50/50 kind of way.

“And then he grabbed the cup of paint water and drank it.”  
  
You almost choke on your food because of the girl’s story. You will admit, when you saw her standing in front of your door with flowers in her hand, you almost regretted the plans you made with her. But now you’re glad you’re here. The restaurant is cute, the food is great and Hannah has the most amazing stories. And you have fun with her. You’re glad the two of you are friends.  
  
You’re also glad Hannah is her old, relaxed self again, in contradiction to the stumbling girl who you’ve seen a lot of lately. She’s calm and at ease. You think you may have not been the only one who was freaked out over the date idea. You’re both so much more comfortable with being friends.  
  
As you predicted, Hannah is unable to keep your mind off of your crush. You don’t blame her, though, because you doubt anyone is capable for that task. But from the table in the middle of the restaurant to the way the girl smiles, everything reminds you of Beca.  
  
**_Beca._**  
  
If you were here with Beca, you would have that table in the back. She’d have a real meal, her cheeks covered in sauce and meat, maybe she’d even have a second plate. She would complain about the lighting in this place and you’d mock her attitude. You’d flirt with her while the waitress would be around, just so you could see her cheeks turn color. And maybe if you were really lucky, you would get her to kiss you.  
  
That thought stays with you for way too long during the course of the evening.  
  
You force your mind back to the girl you’re actually with and you discuss different projects that are coming up in Paul’s class and what both your views are on them. Hannah can talk about art for hours and though that’s inspiring, you also have that twist in your stomach that reminds you you’re still not sure about this path. The girl in front of you has wanted this and worked towards this all her life, so it makes sense she’s more experienced in the field. You, on the other hand, have only decided this was for you a few weeks ago. And though you’re still very much interested and motivated, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever have the same passion for it the way Hannah does.  
  
You wonder if you’ll ever be that passionate about anything. If you’ll love anything so much, you will never have to doubt if you’ll be able to do it for the rest of your life. If you can feel it in your bones when you’ve found that. Or if you’ll forever doubt the different paths and which one would be for you.  
  
There’s still a few more months of college, but fear creeps in by the day. You’re supposed to have it all figured out by then, because that’s what college is for, right? You graduate and then you work a job for the rest of your life. That’s how it goes.  
  
You don’t tell Hannah about these thoughts, though. You doubt someone like her would understand your fears.  
  
Instead, you happily chat along with her while enjoying your dessert and a glass of wine.

* * *

  
The evening lasts longer than intended. By the time you and Hannah exit the restaurant, it’s been a good four hours since you left the dorm.  You wonder if Beca has already gone to the club to work. For some reason, you have a feeling your crush won’t be there when you get back.  
  
You think it’s because of that revelation that you ask Hannah to come up with you to your dorm. You can’t handle an empty room right now. You don’t want to have thoughts about how Beca has left and whether or not she’ll come back. And if she’ll be the same when she does.  
  
You can only hope she understands this has been nothing but a friendly meeting and if she doesn’t, you hope she will at least let you explain.  
  
“I like what you’ve done with it.” Hannah says as she paces the room and looks around while you heat the water for some tea.  
  
As you had expected, Beca is nowhere to be found.  
  
“There’s not much space for creativity.” You giggle in reply. The kitchen and beds take up most of the capacity of the room. Everything else is just personal goods.  
  
“There always is.” Hannah says when you hand her a cup and she zips the hot drink before sitting down on Beca’s bed.  
  
Your throat tightens at the sight and you start coughing up tea with sharp sudden sounds filling the air.  
  
“Are you okay?” The girl asks and you try to move your hands in such a way that she understands that you have it under control.  
  
“Just went the wrong way.” You say when you’re able to breathe again. “Why don’t you come sit here with me.” You propose for the sake of getting the girl off your friend’s bed.  
  
“Oh.” Hannah replies confused. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
You know it’s ridiculous, but you don’t want any other girl but yourself on Beca Mitchell’s mattress. It feels wrong, because you have been intimate there. Not that you haven’t been on your bed, but somehow it feels sacred. It’s a place for the two of you, and you don’t want that to change.  
  
“So what did you have in mind?” Hannah asks with her eyes locked on you.  
  
You don’t exactly have a plan, so to speak. You just didn’t want to find out Beca wasn’t here on your own. You didn’t want your thoughts to run wild. It might be selfish, but your plan was to not be alone. “I don’t know.” You say through smiles. “We could watch a movie or, oh, I have board games?” You say questioning, not sure if the girl would like any of that.  
  
“I was thinking something a little more..” The girl’s voice is in a whisper and you can tell she’s staring at your lips. You’re so caught up in how to stop what’s about to happen from happening, you miss how close she suddenly is and before you know it her lips are on yours.  
  
It’s not a very clever thought, but somehow you believe that if you just don’t move, not just your lips, but every muscle in your body, the girl will get the message and remove her mouth from yours. Unfortunately, the girl seems rather oblivious and continues to press her lips with a little force onto you. Then her hands follow and you notice how they work greedy and rough over your skin while Beca’s hands always feel so soft and caring. The realization that this is not Beca makes you push the girl back and you rise to your feet, if only for the sake of leaving her space.  
  
“I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?” You hear the girl speak from the point in space you left her.  
  
“No, no you didn’t.” You answer quick, but you make sure to stay in the kitchen area. You feel weird being within the girl’s reach right now. “I shouldn’t have invited you up here.” You realize.  
  
“If it’s going too fast for you, I can-“  
  
“No.” You state fast, but the girl has already risen to her feet and taken away some of the needed space between you two. “I just thought we were friends.” You say, hoping the words will keep her away from you.  
  
“We went on a date, Chloe.” The girl speaks confused.  
  
“It wasn’t a date.” You force yourself to say.  
  
“You specifically asked if it was.”  
  
“But then I cancelled.”  
  
“And ten minutes later you wanted to go back to those plans.”  
  
You can see how it must have been confusing, but you just wanted to go back to the day, not the actually date. You should have been more specific.  
  
“And then you invited me up here and-“  
  
“I know how it looks. I didn’t mean to lead you on.” You state apologetic. You’re relieved when the girl puts more space between you, but when she drops to your bed, that relief is gone again.  
  
“Can’t we just-“  
  
“I think it’s best if you go.” You say without giving her a chance to finish her sentence. You already feel bad enough. You don’t want to reject her again. You open the door and keep your eyes resting on your feet until the girl has walked through the opening. You make eye contact and you say you’re sorry again before shutting the door.  
  
The whole event was so uncomfortable, yet there was comfort in there somewhere as well. The realization that you don’t want to kiss anyone but Beca was sudden and immense.  
  
And you feel bad for giving Hannah the feeling that you wanted something more than friendship. You feel bad for rejecting her. You feel bad, but you also really don’t.  
  
You’re relieved.  
  
You don’t really know why, because you’ve known for a while now that you like Beca. But this feels bigger. More important. Harder to get rid of.  
  
You decide to go for a walk around campus to calm yourself down and to clear your head. You forgive yourself during that walk for the way things went with Hannah and you’re certain you can talk to her soon and go back to being friends.  
  
Things with Beca, however, aren’t as simple as that. You think you pushed her away, when the only thing you want is to bring her closer, you learned tonight. You’re not sure you can fix that as easily as things with Hannah.  
  
Liking Beca was bad enough, but now you think you want to be with her.  
  
And you don’t know how to handle that. You don’t know if you could do anything to make that happen. You doubt you could.  
  
Because Beca doesn’t even like you. She tolerates you, to a certain extent, but she doesn’t like you. And even if she did, you don’t think she would actually want to be in a relationship with you.  
  
_You can’t believe you’re actually thinking about being in a relationship with Beca Mitchell.  
_  
Beca Mitchell, the girl who came into your life with nothing more than the prospect of leaving. That’s the only certainty you ever had when it came to Beca. She will leave.  
  
You don’t know how to stop her from leaving.  
  
You don’t exactly know how it happened, but you’re back in your room, back on your bed, with tears streaming down your face. You’re cold, but you’re too tired to do anything about that. You just want to cry until there’s nothing left.

* * *

  
The tears have stopped flowing, but your eyes are still producing them while they’re focused on the floor and you don’t have the energy to move yourself to a lied down position. You think you hear the door to your room opening and for a second you consider jumping up to wipe away the evidence of tears. But you can’t really move.  
  
“Chloe?“  
  
It’s the first time Beca has said your first name and you would make a note to remember what it sounds like if you had any control over your mind right now.  
  
The softness in her voice causes the tears to come faster again. You would fight them if you had the energy to do anything at all. Her hands run over your skin soft and caring like they always do, but tonight it just makes things worse. You wish they would hurt you the way Hannah’s hands did. You wish you could tell her you don’t like her more than a friend the way you told Hannah. You wish you could show her out the way you did with Hannah.  
  
“Chloe, look at me. I need you to calm down and tell me what happened.”  
  
You feel her hands around your face right before she puts a blanket around your body, then her hands dance from your thighs to your arms and back at your face. You don’t know why, but you had hoped that she would be indifferent if she ever found you like the mess you are tonight. Maybe she would yell at you, or simply walk out of the room out of inconvenience. You had hoped she would act like she did in the beginning. That she wouldn’t have changed and she wouldn’t care about you.  
  
It would just make things so much easier.  
  
Suddenly Beca’s hands leave you and her body gets pulled to her feet. The action alone sends electric shocks down your spine, causing you to sit up straight. You don’t know if this is because of her hands leaving your skin –which would be her first steps in actually leaving you all together- or because she’s heating up the room with a heart working overtime to get blood pumped around her tiny body to make sure every muscle is tensed.  
  
You’re able to catch her hand before she’s out of reach. “Beca, where are you going?” You hate the way your voice sounds, but she can’t leave you. Not yet.  
  
“If she fucking put her hands on you, I swear..”  
  
You can feel the hair on your arms standing up because of the anger coming from Beca. Her hand clutches in yours and you think she has forgotten you’re holding it, because for the first time since you have met her, she’s hurting you.  
  
Instead of pulling your hand away from the pain, you squeeze through it and pray to God it will reach Beca’s senses. You wait a few seconds before pulling at her hand and you’re relieved when she follows the movement and drops down to where she was before.  
  
“Beca, please don’t leave me alone.” You speak and tears start rolling out of your eyes again.  
  
Beca’s hand in yours relaxes before she lets go and then they’re back at your face, trying to keep up with the waterfalls. “I’m not, but I don’t know what to do if you won’t talk to me.” She says, sounding as attentive as you’ve never heard.  
  
“Can we talk in the morning?” You ask, knowing you can’t get anything rational out tonight. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, what thoughts you’re ready to share with Beca, but you’ll think about that tomorrow.  
  
For a split second, Beca’s movements lead you to think she’s heading towards her own bed, but then you feel your bed drop behind you and her arms are around your chest, pulling you towards her and under the sheets. There’s that smell that she always carries after a night at the club, maybe a mix of sweat and smoke, but it’s still pleasant, so you turn in her arms and you fall asleep almost immediately.

* * *

  
“Hey, Beale. Wake up.”  
  
When you open your eyes the first time that day, you’re met with Beca’s face relatively close, her one arm around you and the other using to awake you. You don’t think that was more than five hours of sleep, but you still got some rest, which you’re not sure of that Beca can say the same, judging by the tiredness in her eyes.  
  
“Did I keep you up?  You speak through a yawn, fighting everything inside of you that tells you to stay in the bed with Beca.  
  
“No, of course not.” Beca sounds annoyed already.  
  
“Unlike most nights then.” You smirk and wink when Beca’s eyes find you in the kitchen.  
  
“God damn it, Beale.” Beca scolds, her voice rather harsh and weak at the same time.  
  
So you apologize for yesterday while you drink your morning cup of tea. You want to bring your friend a drink too, but she seems awkward already, climbing out of your bed and into her own. You decide to leave it be.  
  
“Did she..?”  
  
You’re quick to give a negative response because of the tone in Beca’s voice. You try to lighten the mood, but your friend makes it clear she wants you to explain what exactly happened last night. You decide she has the right to know, after comforting you and staying with you, although you know she’s weird about sleeping in the same bed and emotions in general.  
  
You tell her Hannah kissed you and even though your eyes are not on the girl, you can see her jaw locking and her body tensing up. She asks you if that’s something you didn’t want and you don’t know how she could even think that. You want to yell and scream that you don’t want to kiss anyone but her ever again, but you’re sane enough not to.  
  
“Did she, you know, force herself on you?”  
  
You tell Beca she didn’t, but you don’t know if that’s the truth. You certainly wouldn’t call it that. It was a misunderstanding. But the girl wasn’t picking up on some obvious signs and she did make you feel very uncomfortable, which is quite rare for you.  
  
“It was just kind of an eye-opener.” You speak, trying to turn this conversation towards the actual subject of the night. You weren’t crying because some girl kissed you unwillingly, but you don’t know how to explain to Beca that this is all because of her.  
  
“I don’t understand.” Beca mumbles after a while.  
  
“We don’t have to make this a big deal, Beca.” You reply as you head to your own bed. You decide you won’t change anything if your crush isn’t open to it. You like what you have with her and you can accept this is all it will ever be if Beca isn’t ready. You won’t throw it all away for nothing. If she tries, then so will you. But you can’t meet someone in the middle of the room if they’re gluing themselves to the wall.  
  
It stays quiet, which isn’t a good sign. But Beca needs time to think about things that are obvious to you most times, so you don’t lose hope just yet. You would give her all the time she needs, but apparently all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough, because without another word, she’s out the door.  
  
Hope is lost then.  
  
You think about going after her. You’d follow her to the ends of this earth, if only you weren’t the one she was running away from.  
  
Or maybe she’s running away from herself. In which case you can’t help her, either.  
  
You’re willing to try, but you need something from her. You can risk everyone and everything, but not for someone who’s not even around.

* * *

  
Sometime after Beca’s leaving, the tears have come back again and you have no intention of stopping them. They force you to accept that this situation is real and that whatever you had hoped for in regards to Beca won’t transcend into reality, no matter how badly you want it.  
  
You try to remind yourself that you’re blinded right now, and that you and her could never work anyway, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Although it is the truth. You and her are too different. It shows in a lot of things, but it has made it even more clear when she disappeared through that door earlier. It’s so easy for her to leave, while it might be the hardest thing in the world for you to watch people leave you.  
  
You could even bet that it wasn’t a conscious decision for Beca to storm out that door, it probably wasn’t even considered. And it might be stupid, but that makes it worse for you.  
  
Because it’s the way she’s wired. She’s made to leave and it doesn’t even pop up that there’s other options. She just gets up and goes, no decision, no prompt, probably no regrets.  
  
You can do a lot of things, but you can’t change how someone’s wired.

* * *

  
You receive a text later that afternoon from Hannah which you confront Beca with when she arrives back at the room a couple of minutes after receiving the message. The combination of her careless behavior and the events that occurred in the past twelve hours cause your sleep deprived self to feel a sense of anger and frustration towards Beca.  
  
“I just did it because I didn’t know what else to do. What I could do.”  
  
Frustration gets traded in for understanding then and you find peace and safety within the warmth of Beca’s hand in yours. You wish this were fixable with words or even actions, but it’s not. You wonder if everything is meant to be fixed. Right now, it feels right to simply be in physical contact with each other while you try to understand her. And maybe she’s trying to understand as well.  
  
Minutes pass by with no more words said or muscles moved, just your head on her shoulder and her hand holding yours. Although you’re not exactly getting anywhere with this, it works somewhat healing, you believe.  
  
“I’m sorry for leaving.” Beca whispers into the silence.  
  
The words are sincere and meant, you have no doubt about that, yet you feel the need to check the girl’s face. You want to remember what it looks like.  
  
“You came back.” You say when you’ve found her dark eyes, knowing that you can accept her leaving as long as she returns to you.  
  
“Well, of course.” You watch the lightness return to her eyes, her facial muscles relax and the hint of a smirk pulling at her lips. “I got all my stuff here, my laptop, my equipment.” She says while scanning the room as a part of her act. “I didn’t come back for you, you know.”  
  
And you don’t know if that’s also part of her act. If she’s joking around or if she’s being serious. Either way, you doubt you’re actually the reason she came back. So you laugh and shake your head, ignoring the words and instead focusing on how your friend is trying to get things between you back to normal. “You’re awful.” You say through smiles.  
  
Beca just shrugs and agrees with that, so you lean your head back on the girl’s body and her arm falls around you in comfort.  
  
“Maybe I shouldn’t go with you to your family.” Beca speaks after a few minutes of silence, her voice small and vulnerable.  
  
“Becs, don’t.” You turn your body so you can face the girl, but since you’re already so close, you end up straddling her hips and your hands fall on her collarbones while you try to get her to look at you. “Don’t push me away.”  
  
“I’m not!” Her voice sounds a little bit higher and thus more sincere, but you can see the doubt in her eyes.  
  
“Well, don’t push yourself away either.”  
  
You watch Beca’s lips pressing together and moving slightly to the right while she nods slowly, silently confessing and accepting your words. You wish you could pinpoint what makes you close the gap between the two of you. You think you used to be able to tell what she did that made you respond like that. But now, you’re kissing her.  
  
And you have no idea why.  
  
You’d freak out over that, if it weren’t for Beca’s mouth opening and allowing you further access.  
  
_Because how can you have rational thoughts when that happens?  
_

* * *

  
During Bellas practice that afternoon, you try to focus more on your group than Beca and whatever has been going on with the two of you. And you’re quite successful in ignoring the thoughts rushing through the back of your mind, but it’s harder to refuse to acknowledge the way your insides act whenever your eyes find your crush.  
  
And once you allow yourself to feel that, the thoughts come hurried after, running through you in a high speed pace.  
  
You think about what you would have said if Beca had stayed in the room with you. You hate yourself for it, but you think you were in that mindset to tell her the truth. Which is scary now that you reflect on it, but you felt safe in the moment. You think it could have started something, but you’re also aware that it could’ve ended things just as easily.  
  
So maybe it’s a good thing Beca didn’t ask any questions. Just because you were ready to tell the truth, doesn’t mean the girl’s ready to hear it.  
  
And the moment has passed, so you shouldn’t think about it anymore. You should be glad you still have the tiny woman around. She came back after leaving and she’s going with you to spend Thanksgiving with your entire family. Those are both amazing things and you’re gonna be happy about that.  
  
Practice ends right after you have your head filled with happy thoughts and an honest smile to match, which of course doesn’t go unnoticed by your friend waiting on you outside the building.  
  
“What are you smiling about, Beale?” She asks as she starts a pace before you’ve managed to slip into her reach.  
  
“Just thinking about how my dad is going to make fun of you the entire stay.”  
  
“What!” Beca yelps out. “Why? What did I do?!”  
  
You’re pretty close with your parents and you talk to them a lot, whether that’s through text messages whilst you’re in class or regular phone calls. So when you told your folks you were bringing a friend, you spent an hour or perhaps even longer talking about Beca. Your dad is the clown of the family. He likes to make everyone laugh, at any given time. It’s one of the reasons you love him so much. And your mom is the caring one. People say you’re almost an exact copy of her. She shows her love and care by touches, smiles and those sparkles in her eyes that heal every wound.  
  
So while your dad was commenting on Beca’s height and rebelliousness in the family group chat, your mom was covering it with _‘oh now David don’t, I’m sure she’s a lovely kid with a great future ahead’_ and sweet words like that. You know your crush will be able to handle your dad’s jokes, but there’s always your mom who can make sure she understands that the words are all meant in good fun and that she’s truly welcome there.  
  
“It’s not so much in what you’ve done.” You tease with a panicked Beca next to you.  
  
“Well then what is it, Beale! What lies have you been spreading about me?”  
  
Beca’s adorable if she thinks you’d have to come up with anything but the truth for your father to make fun of. Your dad loves to embarrass people and Beca happens to be easily embarrassed. You can’t say you hate the image of a flustered Beca at the dinner table with all your relatives around.  
  
“None.” You state nonchalant, not planning on telling Beca anything of the sort. If you give her a hands-up about your father’s teasing, you doubt her reaction would be as much fun as when she figures it out for herself.  
  
You remember how he once threw so many jokes at your seventh grade boyfriend that he literally fled the house. It was hilarious to you, but apparently the guy didn’t appreciate you laughing at him, while that’s not what you were doing, you were laughing at your dad’s jokes, you can understand why he would take it like that. He said he would be okay with continuing to date if you’d promise him he never had to see your father again. You dumped him on the stand.  
  
Family is important to you and the idea of dating someone who can’t get along with your parents, brother and sisters is crazy. And not that the idea of dating Beca is still floating through your mind –which it totally is- but you don’t think it will be a problem with her. Sure, your dad’s gonna mess with her constantly, your brother will make fun of her, your mom will show affection and your sisters will most likely try to put her in a dress for Thanksgiving dinner, yet you still think it would be okay.  
  
You can’t picture any of those things causing Beca to run off.  
  
Beca runs from very specific things you believe. And though you make a mental note to –again- tell your mother to hold back on the hugs, you think she will be fine.

* * *

  
The next few days pass without much more drama. They’re too occupied with classes and Bellas practices, accompanied with your side projects in Paul’s class and Beca’s movie marathon with Jesse, that there simply isn’t more time in the day for drama.  
  
Which you’re thankful for.  
  
And Beca and you are fine. You don’t get to see her as much as you would like to –twenty-four hours a day preferably-, but you’re together most evenings. Sometimes Jesse is still around, talking about characters in the movie and background music, in which case all you have to do is wink or excessively stare at Beca’s body for her to kick the boy out.  
  
You’re glad that day in the weekend didn’t change anything between the two of you. It could have. You thought it would. And sometimes, for a second or two, you feel like it did. But then you get Beca to smile or to roll her eyes at you and you know she’s okay, and you know that you’re okay.  
  
And you are. You still have the girl in your life and you’re lucky enough you get to see her every day, watch her study and curse when she can’t figure it out, watch her throw the books around the room, watching her pick them back up after ten minutes to go back to studying. You get to see how she tries, how she grows as a person. And you’re even luckier you get to be close to her while all of that happens.  
  
And she’s not just trying in regards to college, she also seems to be working things out with her dad. Little by little, of course. She still doesn’t answer her phone until it rings for the sixth time in five minutes, to which she starts the conversation by showing her extended knowledge in curse words. But she doesn’t hang up anymore. That’s progress.  
  
You see Hannah again, not for the first time since the occurrence in the weekend, but since it looked like she didn’t want to talk earlier on in the week and you could understand that, you left her be. But now the awkwardness is picking at your skin and you don’t have any plans for the rest of the Friday afternoon, so you make it your mission to get your friendship back.

* * *

  
“Hey, stranger!” You yell at a tiny brunette you’d recognize anywhere.  
  
“Beale.” Beca states as she waits for you to have crossed the street. “Where you headed?”  
  
“Home.” You state. You’re starving and tired and way too excited to trade these tight jeans for pajama bottoms.  
  
“Me too.” Beca replies. “How’s your project coming along?”  
  
“I might need your help with that tonight, if you don’t mind.” You say a little lost in thought, your mind on the fast approaching deadline for said project.  
  
You make pasta for dinner, because it’s simple and delicious and Beca does the dishes in return, although you help a little, because it means you get to be close to the girl and flirt with her. Even though that has never stopped you before, no matter how great the distance between your bodies.  
  
“So what’s this thing you need help with? I’m warning you, I can’t even draw a straight line.” Beca speaks borderline gleeful as she bounces on her bed.  
  
“Don’t worry, Becs. This doesn’t involve any artistic skills from your side. I just need you to take off your shirt and lie on your stomach.” You’ve reached the girl’s bed just in time to dramatically tap the bed and suggest she gets moving.  
  
Beca’s right eyebrow shoots up and her lips curl before she sucks her bottom one in and lets her teeth  scrape over them slowly. “Didn’t realize it was _that_ kind of help.” Beca says smirking as her eyes travel unashamed over your features.  
  
“It’s not.” You tease while you move your body over the girl who’s spread out on her bed, her head and chest the only body parts that are disconnected from the mattress as her elbows are holding her up to keep her gaze on you. “Although a shirtless Beca Mitchell is always satisfying.” You flirt back as you sit down on her thighs and pull the girl up by the shirt, only to remove it quickly after.  
  
“Jesus, Beale. Buy a girl dinner first, maybe.” Beca complains with zero sincerity in her voice.  
  
You’re too busy staring at the girl’s revealed skin to think of a retort, so you decide to not even try. You notice Beca’s cheeks starting to blush, yet her spine straightens proudly, fully aware that your eyes are on her. “I _made_ you dinner.” It’s nothing more than a whisper, but you know the girl’s close enough to hear it anyway. The words don’t hold their usual confidence, so you slide a hand up the girl’s side to regain your boldness.  
  
You watch Beca’s reaction, crossing one after another off of your mental list of how her body responses to being touched.  
  
First her lungs fill to their absolute maximum, and then she freezes and you feel her abdomen harden against your hand. She’s like a frozen statue in that short-lived moment, an unmoved sculpture made from steel or ice.  
  
You always wonder how her body is able to handle that kind of pressure.  
  
But right after that, her chest slowly starts to fall again. A second or two later, her hands always seem desperate for touch. Right now, you feel her fingers digging into your hips, involuntarily inching your bodies closer together.  
  
You rest your hand on her ribs while your thumb toys with the girl’s black bra, occasionally slipping under it to tease the younger woman, making her gulp and speeding up her heartbeat you can so easily feel under your fingertips.  
  
You lose track of the girl’s actions when you realize her lips are close enough to kiss. You think about moving in. To be honest, that’s probably all you’re thinking. But you also really like this moment you’re having and you don’t want to ruin it, even if you’d ruin it in the best of ways.  
  
So you don’t move closer, but you keep your eyes glued to her beautiful dark ones, watching her watch you while your fingers dance over her ribs.  
  
And you could stay in that moment forever, sitting on the girl’s lap with her hands on you and her face only millimeters away, but Beca lets her eyes fall, probably feeling uncomfortable and unable to handle a situation like this.  
  
You understand it. You can’t think of a reaction that’s more like Beca.  
  
“On your stomach.” You whisper in the girl’s ear before going against every fiber in your body and releasing Beca from her physical and emotional unease.  
  
The girl does what she’s told, but not without voicing her complaints. You don’t even notice them anymore.  
  
Now that your crush is lying face down on her bed, shirtless so nonetheless distracting, it’s easier to bring your thoughts to the initial plans of the evening. The assignment Paul’s class was given, something you consider yourself part of now, was to create something involving skin. You know your way around a piece of paper and canvas is starting to grow on you as well, but you have no idea what you could create with skin.  
  
Hannah, after you had spent hours of getting her to talk to you, told you she was going to try and find someone to stick a needle full of ink in. You like tattoos, but on other people. The idea of it alone sends shivers down your spine.  
  
But it’s such a great idea of your friend. And she got it not even a second after Paul’s briefing. You on the other hand, have no clue what to do that would involve skin and art. You did some research and found pictures of paintings on people’s back. Hence why you took off your roommate’s shirt and got her to lie down like she is right now.  
  
Your hands trail mindlessly over Beca’s back while you think to yourself why you can’t think of anything original. You want to be like Hannah. You want to have passion so bright that you can think of anything original and amazing on the spot. You don’t want to do what pops up as your first result when you Google search for ideas, you don’t want to do what’s all over the internet and what has been done so many times before.  
  
But like most of Paul’s projects, time isn’t on your side. He says the pressure forces your creativity to come out, but all that comes out with you is anxiety and stress.  
  
Still, this is the single and therefor best idea you have, so you’re going with it.  
  
“You have weird art projects.” Beca mumbles sleepily, moving her head from hanging to the left to the right, probably because you have been sitting next to her body and doing nothing for way too long.  
  
Your mind suddenly gets slapped back to Beca. Maybe because of her raspy voice, you don’t really know. Whatever it is, you give into it and you move yourself back on the girl’s body. Your hands get pulled to her lower back, so you’re forced to sit on your friend’s behind. You’ve always known she has a firm one, you’ve seen it, felt it when you dug your nails in it, but somehow sitting down on the girl’s butt with your hands down in the dips of her back, you realize it, truly.  
  
It goes as far as to spark something inside of your stomach, maybe even lower than that, but you don’t let your mind go there. Instead, you allow your hands to move over the back of your crush. From her hips to her shoulders and back, still contemplating what to do for your assignment.  
  
Maybe if you would paint something unique, it wouldn’t matter that it’s the most unoriginal idea in the world of arts. Maybe if you created something perfect and special, it would take the focus off of the general idea of it. But then again, inspiration fails you as to what that perfect and special thing would be.  
  
You hadn’t even noticed your hands started to use more strength than simply dragging them over skin, but Beca’s heavy sigh brings it to your attention. Again, something sparks inside of you and this time, you don’t push it away. You want to hear that sound again.  
  
You start to massage the girl with your full attention, working on her neck and shoulders a little more than her spine and the lower bits of her back, since the knots are tighter there. It doesn’t take long until some mixture of a sigh and a moan escapes the girl beneath you, satisfying your eardrums and perhaps other parts of you as well.  
  
You smirk even though Beca can’t possibly see you.  
  
You remove your hands from the woman on the bed and you place them on either side of her as you lean down, making sure your body doesn’t brush over hers. “What was that?” You whisper teasing into the girl’s ear. The position and sudden intimacy turns your stomach in a downward spiral, affecting your head in a way that makes you dizzy.  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Beca replies innocent, but you notice how her voice no longer sounds sleepy.  
  
“That sound-“ You place your teeth around the shell of the girl’s ear and bite lightly. Beca responds by inhaling sharply, leaving you even more confident. “-you made.” You finish with the skin still between your teeth, which you now suck on to sooth the pain.  
  
“I didn’t make a sound.” Beca stumbles through her obvious lie, but you take the challenge.  
  
You hum questioning and you move your mouth to the girl’s shoulder blades where you carefully bite and suck at her skin. Beca makes sure she doesn’t let any noise escape her, but you can feel her squirm underneath you.  
  
Your mouth takes over the path your hands were on earlier and you make sure to cover every inch of skin. Beca starts releasing her sighs, but you’re aiming for the moans here. When the path has lead you up again, you make a short stop at Beca’s neck where you allow yourself to take a quick glance at the young woman’s face.  
  
Beca is biting her bottom lip to the extend where you’re worried she’s going to cut right through it. Her right hand is next to her face, where it was splayed out before, it’s now holding the sheets into a tight grip.  
  
“Is there any other place the lady needs her tension released?” You flirt while you put your weight on your hips and thus Beca’s ass.  
  
Beca’s mouth, which was opened to answer, shuts back tight again because of the action, her lips get sucked in and her head shakes quickly, as best as her positon on the bed allows her to.  
  
“No?” You question with a softness in your voice before humming to agreement and getting back to what you were doing. This time when you bite her shoulder, you don’t hold back and Beca’s curse word echoes through the room.  
  
“That didn’t count.” She’s quick with her recovery.  
  
“I’m pretty sure it did.” You giggle.  
  
Beca’s body moves, so you lift yourself up by your elbows and let her turn in the small spot underneath your body. She handles a fight with her hair that’s annoying her face and view before facing you completely. “It didn’t.” She says bold and stubborn.  
  
“I could go ask the next door neighbors if they thought that was a moan?”  
  
“Shut up.” Beca falters with fake anger. “I thought you had a project to work on?”  
  
“I found a better one.”  
  
You connect your lips to Beca’s, who’s tongue lets you know that the action wasn’t as unpredictable as you thought it would be. Her tongue swirls through your mouth immediately, experienced and smooth. When she pushes you back and takes your position, you know this is her taking back control over the situation.  
  
You approve it, because Beca pushing your body into the mattress is sexy and you doubt you could fight her off even if you wanted to. So you wrap your legs around her hips and allow her to kiss you with heat and passion.  
  
There’s still a small tornado raging through your torso, reminding you that no matter how good a job the girl does in taking your mind off things, it’s there because things aren’t like they used to be.  
  
You would describe it as better than before, because you’ve never had foreplay with your crush. Not really. You’ve had teasing and walks across the room that led to strong pushes against the wall, and those were great and you would take those any day.  
  
But now you’ve had a taste of this. Actual foreplay; the thing Beca told you wasn’t necessary within the rules of the deal you’ve made with her. And she’s playing along. Maybe she even likes it. Everything inside of you tells you this is better.  
  
But the stupid tornado doesn’t agree. It fights and rages through you, reminding you that you never had that tornado in your body when it was casual sex. Now, it’s swirling and twisting, making you feel things you really don’t want to.  
  
You push Beca’s head to your neck and she eagerly takes the offer while you catch your breath and push out the feelings that come floating up due to the winds and thunder in your stomach. You can’t push them out of your chest, but you manage to get them out of your head, which is good enough for the moment.  
  
You focus on Beca, on how her hips move and her tongue fights and her hands dance. Soon enough, you’re back in that place with her and you start removing clothing items; your own shirt, Beca’s bra, your skirt, your bra.  
  
You leave Beca’s pants on for the moment, because the denim feels nice between your legs and also because once that item is gone, you doubt you’d be able to last much longer. Again, you want to stay in this moment. You want to continue making out with the girl, your bodies pressed together, your hips moving together. The heat floating through your thighs yells at you in disagreement, but you don’t want more.  
  
And it’s not like you don’t have sex multiple times in a row. You almost never stop after one orgasm, but you’re just so focused on this moment. You feel like it will change nonetheless.  
  
_You’re not making sense, but you can blame it on your mind that’s not in a rational state right now._  
  
“You good?” Beca pants against your lips and you’re quick to nod before sucking her tongue back into your mouth.  
  
Beca’s hand travels from your neck over your chest towards the button on her pants. The back of her hand makes contact with your underwear and more importantly, _with you_. The sound that escapes you indicates you’re close, and you think Beca knows it as well, because instead of taking off her pants, she takes care of the remaining item on you.  
  
You’re forced to unwrap your legs from Beca’s body and she notices you’re not happy with it, so as soon as the underwear is gone, Beca’s back between your legs, pulling you into her by your thighs. You move your hands in a way that gets Beca’s face close to yours again, because you’re in no state of mind to ask her to kiss you or form words at all for that matter.  
  
You’re desperate for her mouth, but your friend thinks you’re desperate for more. You have to fight her hands from travelling down until she gets the message and rests them in your hair instead. You want this to last longer than three more seconds, which is exactly what would be the case if Beca’s hand touched you right now.  
  
But the heat continues to flow through your spread out legs, reminding you that no matter where Beca’s hands are at, some things are bound to happen. Some things can’t be stopped.  
  
It just takes a few more buckles of Beca’s hips where the denim rubs against you for you to give in and fall over the edge.  
  
“Well, I guess I have to wash these pants.” Beca says with a smile as big as anything when you’ve recovered from your high.  
  
“Sorry.” You state apologetic, not yet recovered enough to reply with something flirtatious.  
  
Beca just shakes her head, her eyes fixated on yours and the smile, yet fallen, is still present on her lips. “Don’t.” She speaks softly. Her smile slowly disappears from her face until there’s nothing left but Beca’s glowing eyes watching you. You watch her, literally, shake off whatever thought she was having when she closes her eyes and shakes her head once quickly.  
  
You take her face in your hands and kiss her before whatever thoughts crossed her mind take her away from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to state that I got secondhand embarrassed writing that kiss between Chloe and Hannah and I apologize to anyone who felt the same! This was never going to be some kind of love triangle between these three, or something Chloe would pursue to get an emotion out of Beca. This was, as this chapter explained, necessary in the progress of their relationship and I just wanted to spell that out for you guys ;p
> 
> Now I was hoping to have the next chapter up before Thanksgiving (not that I've ever cared about the timeline in this story in comparison to real life, but I just thought it would be nice in this case) but that's not gonna happen, unfortunately. I'm not gonna make an assumption as to when it will be up since, if you're actively following this story, God bless your soul, you may know I tend to disappoint whenever I hint at a date ;p
> 
> Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Let me know!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "That’s when you know for sure somebody loves you. They figure out what you need and they give it to you — without you asking." -Adriana Trigiani
> 
> /

It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving when nerves really start to settle in. You were able to cope during the week when you had dumb colleges and terrible movies with Jesse to distract you, but now that’s gone –however relieved that makes you-  all that’s left are doubts about this _stupid_ trip to Kansas where you’ll spend a _stupid_ holiday with Chloe’s _stupid_ family.  
  
You don’t even know why you agreed to this.  
  
You doubt you can make it through Thanksgiving dinner with a family as happy and cheerful as Chloe’s, let alone five full days.  
  
You don’t know what to wear, what you’d have to talk about with these people, what sentences you’d form without the use of your usual offensive vocabulary.  
  
These doubts have been around since the offer had left your friend’s mouth, but whenever you were planning on voicing them, whenever you had decided this idiotic plan wasn’t for you, Chloe Beale entered the room and you couldn’t seem to remember why you wouldn’t want to spend five days with that girl.  
  
She didn’t even have to do anything or say anything, she would just have to be around for you to mentally reason with yourself. _’It is a good thing to be off this dumb campus for a while. At least your dad won’t come to bother you during the particular holiday. You won’t have to sit through any more awful movies with Jesse.’  
_  
So you pushed the doubts out –although never completely- and went to classes on Monday and Tuesday, knowing you had made your decision and that you weren’t going to change your mind on such short notice. That is, of course, until your ginger roommate awakes you at five thirty in the early Wednesday morning.  
  
“Forget it, Beale. Just leave me behind.” You mumble dramatically into your pillow.  
  
But Chloe doesn’t leave you behind. She helps you out of bed and you might’ve been on your feet for several minutes, you’re not fully awake until you find yourself in a shower stall with your friend. She claims the water will make you feel better and help keep your eyes open, but it’s her set of lips moving against yours that get the credit for that.  
  
Being the person that you are, you have to pack a bag at the very last minute. Chloe had hers packed and ready on Sunday evening, but you didn’t see the point of that. You grab the bag that lied on the end of your bed so many weeks ago. It reminds you how far you’ve come. You stuff the clothes in without thinking too much and Chloe helps by throwing things that are _actually_ clean your way.  
  
You take some CDs with you, including mixtapes you made yourself, and then you’re out the door.  
  
“My car is parked on the other side.” Chloe speaks as she struggles carrying all those bags, which you doubt contains stuff she actually needs. You enjoy watching her trying to get through the door that exits the building, feeling like you’re slightly punishing her for bringing so many items.  
  
You take three of her bags eventually, after you’re satisfied you’ve laughed at her enough to get your statement across.  
  
“Why did I not know you had a car?” You ask as you swing the bags onto your shoulders and follow your friend down the street.  
  
“There’s so much you don’t know about me, Becs.” Chloe says flirtatious as she walks skilled and easily in reverse, her eyes on you so she can wink while her feet move backwards.  
  
Your friend opens the trunk of a red Chevrolet and places her bags in while you’re stuck in place. “You drive a ’69 Chevrolet Camaro?” You’re dropping bag after bag on the sideway while eyeing the gorgeous car in front of you.  
  
“If that’s this one, then yes.” Chloe giggles in return. “It used to be my dad’s, but he gave it to me when I went to college.” She puts the bags you dropped in the trunk and closes it while her eyes continue to follow you.  
  
“Is your dad in The Fast  & The Furious?” You move your hand in the air around the car, not worthy of actually touching the sheet metal.  
  
Chloe just laughs as an answer.  
  
“I can’t believe you have a Chevy Camaro and you’re not constantly driving it.”  
  
“I don’t really like to drive.” Chloe admits honestly. “Do you wanna?” The girl jingles the car keys on her finger, as if she’s hypnotizing you with it.  
  
“Do I-“ Your voice cracks, but your feet don’t. Before you know it, you’re sitting in the driver’s seat of a freaking Camaro. “This is insane.” You state when Chloe has entered the car. You share a look with the girl, questioning if she’s serious about you driving this beast.  
  
Chloe just smiles at you, so you start the car and the roaring sound alone brings goosebumps onto your skin. The laugh that escapes your lips wasn’t planned, but the girl next to you laughs along, as crazy as the whole act is.  
  
You pull up to the highway shortly after.

* * *

  
The first hour of the long drive, Chloe chats about how excited she is and she shares stories about her family. You listen and try to store that information somewhere in your head in case you need it in the upcoming few days.  
  
After making a short stop to get a cup of coffee for your friend and some snacks for the road, the time is spent with singing along to the music and Chloe serenading you with silly dance moves. You play some of your own mixes as well, to which the girl in the passenger seat closes her eyes and listens attentively.  
  
After driving for five hours, Chloe’s gotten quieter, her singing and dancing has been exchanged for silent humming along to the music while her eyes are focused on the passing nature. Her left hand at the back of your neck, softly massaging you and occasionally playing with your earlobe keeps everything in you alive and focused.  
  
You can still remember the times when her touch brought your heart to stop for a beat too many and the action fired something in you, a reaction that was programmed into you from an early age. Now, your heart occasionally still skips a metaphorical beat, but her hands are familiar with your skin and there’s no more need to turn away from that touch or get angry over it. If anything, the desire is to give in to that touch.  
  
But giving into that touch, allowing it to happen without flinching, doesn’t put out that fire red desire in your stomach. Her moving hand at the back of your neck feels great, but it also reminds you that there are other parts of her skin that feel great, you happen to know from experience.  
  
You have your spontaneous moments at times, and you try to give into those whenever they come up, because they’re rather rare. So without thinking about it, you rest your right hand on Chloe’s thigh. You feel her eyes onto you immediately, but you’re not about to make a big deal out of the action, so you keep your eyes on the road and continue to sing along to the mix that’s on.  
  
Just when you think the girl’s eyes on you will make your cheeks start to turn color, she turns them back to the side window and you release the breath you didn’t know you were holding.  
  
You don’t know how long ago your right hand fell into Chloe’s lap, squeezing just above her knee at times and lazily caressing the length of it, but you miss the contact immediately when you’re forced to stop for gas. You buy more snacks and energy drinks while you pay for the gas, and you bring your friend a cup of tea.  
  
“Here, be careful, it’s hot.”  
  
“It’s supposed to be hot, Becs.” Chloe has her voice filled with teasing, but it doesn’t stop you from rolling your eyes at her.  
  
“That’s the last time I’m being nice to you.”  
  
Chloe puts the cup in the cup holder as she lifts her knees underneath her body and uses that to push her body towards you and trail her fingers over your face. “No, it’s not.”  
  
You’ve always wondered how anything the girl says can sound so heavily loaded with sexual intentions if she just twists her voice in that certain way. She could talk about global warming in that voice and it would still turn you on. Which might be a little weird, so you make a note to never admit that out loud.  
  
The girl stares at your lips unabashed and proud while her fingers drag over the back of your neck to your jaw. You follow her touch without conscious control until your face is inches away from Chloe’s, which is when you close your eyes. You feel the girl rolling her bottom lip against yours while inhaling sharply, and you let it slide over your mouth until your friend’s lungs have pushed out most of the air which is when you take the offer and suck her bottom one between your lips.  
  
She does the same with yours while filling her lungs with air through her nose, an action that you copy so that you’re prepared for what’s to come. Both your mouths open in sync as well as the movement of your tongues that follow automatically after.  
  
You’ve never considered yourself a _good kisser_. Not that you’re selling yourself short, it’s just that most altercations your lips have had with another set, it was awkward in one way or another. And you haven’t had much practice or experience, because not only do you have a low number in shared kisses, you also don’t let people stay around long enough to get used to the way they kiss and move.  
  
But you’ve had the honor of kissing Chloe Beale for longer than you could have ever imagined and a lot longer than you deserve. You’ve never had any trouble on the kissing area with the girl, and when you did bump your teeth against hers, she would simply smile and it never _felt_ awkward or weird, where it would have been if it was with anyone else.  
  
But after all this time, the two of you work better together. Your teeth don’t clash anymore and whenever you’re kissing the side of her lips hurriedly, she just moves her head before they miss. She makes you _feel_ like you’re a good kisser. And you don’t think you’d be any good with anyone else.  
  
“Park the car somewhere.” Chloe whispers through kissing you, making no attempt to stop so you could actually do what she ordered you to.  
  
“I might need my face for that, Beale.” You take the opportunity to speak while she’s nipping on your bottom lip. She opens her mouth one more time to roam her tongue through your mouth before she starts smiling and giggling like a kid.  
  
You bring the engine to roar, but after hearing Chloe sigh and breathe heavily, the sound disappoints to say the least.  
  
You learn that it’s rather hard to drive, even if it’s just to the end of the parking lot behind the gas station to park the muscle car, when there’s a hot ginger biting on your ear and jaw. You’re glad her hand doesn’t fall between your legs until you’ve almost brought the car to stop, because the chances of you crashing that Chevy would have been multiplied by a hundred.  
  
In one skilled move, she gets out of her passenger seat to straddle your lap while her hand pulls on the handle of the driver’s seat and you both get slammed into a lied down position.  
  
“Dude!” You manage to say after the sudden movement which caused your friend to practically fall on top of you. Not that you mind –at all-, but a little heads up would have been nice.  
  
Chloe ignores your words only to bring her focus back to your mouth. She kisses you hungrily and you have trouble catching up with her hurried lips, making you smile lightly which doesn’t help your chase.  
  
“In a rush, Beale?” You mumble against the girl’s lips with a smug smile you know she can feel.  
  
Chloe’s mouth leaves yours then and you open your eyes only to be rewarded with a pretty girl taking off her shirt smooth and sexy while you wonder how she can do that in the limited space of the car. “I told my parents we’d be there before dinner, so yes.” Chloe explains before she unclips her bra with one hand behind her back and tosses it after her shirt.  
  
You feel your stomach dropping while you gulp at the sight. You will never get used to how good this woman looks, clothes on or off, but definitely when they’re off.  
  
Chloe’s staring at you with her eyebrow raised and her smile all proud and disgusting.  
  
“Remind me to thank your father later.” You say to get the arrogance off of the girl’s face.  
  
“My father?” Chloe asks confused.  
  
“Yeah, because of him I’m gonna have sex in a Camaro!”  
  
Your joke makes Chloe’s face fall and the sound of her laughter immediately pulls at your own lips. “You should be thanking me.” The woman hovering over you reminds you as she connects your lips again.  
  
You move your hands to the girls naked chest and her mouth falls open instantly. “I intend to.” The smile you have on your face feels disgustingly bright.  
  
You learn that due to the position you’re both in, it’s fairly easy to connect your mouth to the girl’s chest and neck if you push yourself up best you can, which is quite difficult with your friend’s body weight equally divided between your stomach and your legs, holding you down.  
  
But you manage.  
  
You’re able to suck at her collarbones and let your teeth scrape over the girl’s breasts before she’s forcing your back to connect with the driver’s seat again. Her mouth starts to battle yours again while hands dance over each other’s skin.  
  
Chloe and you are both wearing jeans, which isn’t very easy to get your hand into, making you regret not putting on those sweatpants this morning.  
  
“Fuck.” You let the curse word slip past your lips when Chloe’s hand finds its way into your jeans and with that your boxers too. She can easily slip between your folds and push herself in due to the extended make out session.  
  
It takes you a second to remember what prompt was sent to your hands, but they catch up and with a little help from the girl on top of you, you manage to return the favor.  
  
Chloe reacts by inflating her lungs with the hot air in the car. She falls back on your body and the moans she lets out in your mouth travel through your chest and your stomach, pulling at something and setting it on fire before you can figure out what it was.  
  
The two hands moving between your bodies feel strangely comfortable, but that’s all thanks to Chloe who has her hips lifted into the air to create enough space between the two of you, leaning her full weight on her one free arm as the hand is tangled in your hair and her elbow resting on the seat.  
  
Of course, her hips start to falter and lose their ability to stay in control the more you move the hand that’s in your friend’s pants. Your back arches off the driver’s seat at the same time the girl’s hips and general lower body completely give out and there’s nothing left but heavy panting.  
  
Chloe’s hand is the first to leave and you miss the contact immediately, but shortly after you taste yourself on the girl’s lips and you can no longer hate the absence of her hand in your pants.

* * *

  
You’re back on the road after that short -but fun- pit stop on the side of the highway. Chloe tries to engage you in a few games she says are perfect for road trips or long car rides. You’re skeptical at first, but when you finally participate in a serious manner, Chloe just jokes and flirts.  
  
“I don’t know, something red.”  
  
“Becs, you have to say ‘I spy with my little eye’!”  
  
“I’m not saying that!”  
  
“Okay, something red. Your cheeks whenever I stare at your boobs.”  
  
“Dude!”  
  
Chloe proves her point by not only looking but also groping your chest. You have trouble fighting both the blush that creeps up on you and the girl’s hands that are suddenly everywhere.  
  
But you can’t say you hate this car ride. You get to drive a beautiful car, you have a beautiful girl to keep you company and there are snacks. You’re actually having a good time, if you’re honest, but the idea of meeting this girl’s family in a few hours keeps the happiness from appearing.  
  
Chloe has explained that just her parents and little brother will be in the house when you arrive. Her sisters will be there in the morning and the rest of the family comes in late afternoon. At least you have the family split up so you won’t get thrown in at the deep end immediately. Three people today, you can do that. And the advantage of many people coming in at once is that you can easily slip out or get overlooked, especially with your height.  
  
Chloe calls her mom when you run into traffic, so instead of having dinner at the Beale residence, you eat at a roadhouse and it’s smelly and dark, but you kind of like it. Chloe, however, seems afraid of her life whenever the door gets thrown open. It’s hilarious.  
  
“Becs, can we please get out of here?” She asks as soon as the last bite has disappeared into your mouth.  
  
You tease her for a bit, saying how you’ve been driving all day and you need this break, and of course Chloe responds understanding and sweet, which just makes you feel bad for playing her like that, so you pay the check and head out.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that guy had another man’s blood on his shirt!” She whispers and shrieks somehow at the same time while you exit the building.  
  
“How do you know it’s _another man’s blood_?” You reply laughing.  
  
The girl mumbles something but you can’t understand it since she’s wrapped her body around yours and her arms around you make it feel like she’s holding on for dear life. You let your arm drape around her neck, but the girl keeps moving as if she could be any closer to you than right now.  
  
She eventually settles with walking backwards with her face hidden in the crook of your neck and her arms around you, hugging you tightly against her. You keep her head close by wrapping your arms around her.  
  
The walk to the car takes twice as long by walking like this, but you’re not sure Chloe cares about that, so you keep your comments to yourself.  
  
“How much further?” She breathes against your neck just when you spot the muscle car a few feet away.  
  
“Almost there.” You whisper back.  
  
At the same time, a large man with a beard and a cowboy hat exits a car to your right. He walks pass you on his way into the roadhouse, but your eyes meet his angry ones and you know he’s going to say something before his mouth even moves.  
  
“Fuckin’ dykes.”  
  
“What the fuck did you say?!”  
  
You don’t hate many things. You dislike a lot, sure. You dislike almost everything. But pure hatred for something isn’t felt a lot. Right now, your blood starts to boil at the word the man used. Your bones warm up due to the fire inside of you and every inch of you is tensed and ready.  
  
You feel Chloe’s hands on your stomach, pulling your involuntarily moving feet to a stop.  
  
You watch the man’s back moving further away from you without so much as acknowledging you.  
  
“Yeah, you better walk away!” You yell after him bold, courage found in both your anger and the man’s path away from you. Although you know damn well if he turned around right now, you’d fight the asshole with all you’ve got.  
  
(Even if ‘all you’ve got’ is five foot two on raging anger.)  
  
“Come on, firecracker.” Chloe says heavily as she struggles to drag you to the car.  
  
“That asshole needs to learn to shut up.” You say with your jaw still locked in disgust.  
  
“You’re not meeting my parents with bruised hands.” She speaks with joy in her voice as she pushes you against the side of the car.  
  
You’re still pissed off, so you don’t say anything else, you just keep your eyes trained on where the man disappeared into the restaurant. You think about going after him just to get rid of the rage inside of you.  
  
“Beca, relax. Who cares what he thinks?” Chloe speaks softly near your face.  
  
“I don’t _care_ , but he needs to watch his language!”  
  
Chloe laughs at you then and you know why. It’s not like you have the right to comment on someone else’s usage of words, but that’s different. You curse and scold a lot. You don’t use disgusting words like those.  
  
“Come on, forget about him.” Chloe says eventually. She trails her fingers over your face and you feel her hips leaning into you. “Don’t let him ruin our fun.” Again, her voice is pulling and twitching at your insides.  
  
Instead of agreeing verbally, you lean in and kiss the girl’s lips. Your anger evaporates quickly.  
  
“You don’t have to fight everyone, there are other ways, Beca. For instance, we could have sex on top of his car.”  
  
Your eyes widen in size like a kid’s when they’re told they get to go to Disneyland, but it doesn’t last long.  
  
“Just an example, Becs.” Chloe continues as she gets in the car and you have no choice but to follow.

* * *

  
After driving for over eleven hours, you pull off the highway and Chloe tells you which way to go that will lead you to the house she grew up in. You listen, but her voice is barely hearable, because the nerves come popping up again, one by one.  
  
You take no note of them, not interested in panicking over this, but you drown in them nonetheless. They start to swallow you whole and when Chloe states it’s at the end of this street, your vision starts to blur and you don’t know if you’re seeing double or if all these houses look the same.  
  
It’s the fanciest street you’ve ever seen. Big houses that aren’t connected to each other stand proudly on their own. The front yards are bigger than the living room of the house you grew up in. Your dad used to say the grass is always greener, but damn, this grass is green.  
  
Disgustingly, terribly green.  
  
It’s perfect.  
  
The houses look like they’re all straight from a magazine, or as if they’re all up for sale and they have to look their best. You can easily imagine neighborly barbeques once a month and casseroles being made for the sick housewives.  
  
And you weren’t raised in a bad area, not at all. But you never knew the names of your neighbors and you doubt you could get your parents’ yard to look as good as these. There are trees everywhere, yet you can’t spot a single leaf in the front yards, not even on the streets, for God’s sake.  
  
“Beca?”  
  
You snap out of the idea that you’ve fallen into a movie at the sound of Chloe’s voice, although it hints that maybe you’ve missed previous words. “I was just wondering why there are no leaves on the ground.” You say honestly.  
  
Chloe bursts out in laughter. “You’re so weird.” Her hand opens the door and you know you have no choice but to follow. You drove all day for this. Of course you have to.  
  
“You okay?” Your friend asks as you unload the trunk.  
  
“Yeah, totally.” You lie through the anxiety of meeting the girl’s parents. You take as many bags as you can carry and Chloe takes the remaining ones and then you’re walking towards the door.  
  
You wonder what you could say or do as a good first impression. Maybe say something about the car to her dad, maybe compliment her mom’s hair. Maybe the best first impression is not saying anything at all.  
  
“Hey.” Chloe’s voice stabs through the worrying thoughts like an arrow through its target. “You’re gonna be fine.” She says with a squeeze of her hand.  
  
You believe her.  
  
Chloe rings the bell and with that, your fears are gone. Like that time you had to perform in a music play and you spent weeks and weeks dreading the moment you had to step on stage. Then the day came and as soon as your feet hit the stage, fears fell off of your shoulders and impacted the ground. You know you can’t turn back and, when you look at how happy the girl next to you is, you don’t think you want to.  
  
The doorbell has a default tune you believe comes with a house as big as this one, yelling through the hallways so even when you’re in the third spare bedroom or the fourth bathroom, you will know there’s someone at the door.  
  
The tune just reaches the end when the door flings open and Chloe’s hanging around the woman’s neck immediately. She’s about your height, dark hair with hints of grey ones sticking out and a pair of glasses hanging at a string around her neck. Her glowing smile resembles the one you get to see every day.  
  
A man appears shortly after and Chloe jumps in his arms too. He’s a tall man, easily six foot, with short hair and a moustache. He’s wearing a plain shirt and loose jeans, which weirdly puts you at ease.  
  
Your friend introduces you and you do the formalities where you state their last names in a way to greet them. The man simply shakes your hand and smiles, but the lady hugs you tightly and you try to be a normal person and hug her back, but you end up patting her shoulder instead. You’re glad there’s no room for awkward silences, because your friend lets her mouth run rampant.  
  
“And this restaurant, mom, it was so creepy. This one guy had another man’s blood on his shirt!”  
  
“Oh well, honey, at least you had Beca with you.”  
  
You smile politely at the woman.  
  
“What would Beca be of help with? Is she gonna throw trophies at them?” The man bursts out in a loud laughter and Chloe joins him.  
  
You smile at the scene, but you make sure your eyes tell Chloe you wanna punch her lights out.  
  
_So much for good impressions.  
  
  
_

* * *

 

* * *

  
“I’m just messing with you, Beca. Come on in, I’ll grab the bags.”  
  
Beca’s glare is visible through her fake smile, targeted at no one but you, which you greet with an honest, amused facial expression. You watch Beca and your dad bicker over who carries the last bag, maybe in some weird way showing off, but your dad eventually takes it and they drop the bags near the stairs.  
  
“Beca, would you like something to drink?” You mom asks your friend ever so nicely.  
  
Beca has her mouth open to answer, but instead the air gets slapped out of her tiny body when your dog Rufus impacts her with his big paws. His tail represents his happiness and when your friend drops to the floor to pet the excited animal, his tongue licks over her cheeks, but Beca just laughs.  
  
“Yes, I’d love to, Mrs. Beale.” Beca speaks while continuing to stroke the dog’s head. “What’s this little fellow's name?” She asks no one in particular.  
  
“That’s Rufus. He’s an old one, but it doesn’t show.” Your dad tells proud. It’s true. Rufus must be around 13 years of age right now, which is extremely rare for Labrador Retrievers, but he’s still as happy as the day you got him as a puppy. Of course, he can’t walk great distances anymore and he has issues with his knees lately, but that is all.  
  
“Chloe, will you help me with the tea?”  
  
You follow your mom into the kitchen you haven’t seen in over four months and you help her with the drinks. You leave Beca with your dad, but you have faith she’ll be fine. As soon as the kettles starts yelling, the two of them join you at the bar in the kitchen.  
  
“Where’s my cup, sis?”  
  
“John!”  
  
You launch yourself around the boy’s neck and hold onto him for a few seconds. His smell slaps you back to that time you played hide and seek with your siblings and you hid in your brother’s closet, surrounded by his clothing that had his personal scent on it.  
  
“I heard your annoying voice from my room.” The boy teases with a big grin.  
  
A grin you’ve missed.  
  
You fling yourself around him one more time before you introduce him to Beca. “Beca, this is my baby brother John. John, this is Beca.”  
  
“Hey, it’s nice to meet you.” Beca greets him polite with a shake of the hand.  
  
“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you. Wait, are you the DJ that’s failing college or the roommate who got arrested for destruction of property?”  
  
“I’m both, actually.” Beca replies semi-proud, her face slightly ticked to the left while her lips shrug.  
  
“Yeah, a friend of mine in Carolina said it made the papers. That’s impressive.” Your brother states admiring.  
  
Your brother takes a seat and he and Beca start to chat about Beca’s job and music in general. They seem they get along, from what you can tell from the other side of the bar. It must be because they’re around the same age, but you’re nonetheless happy that Beca feels comfortable.  
  
While you leave the two of them to talking, you talk to your parents about college and you share some of your concerns regarding choosing a path after the end of the schoolyear. Your dad says he really likes that you’re taking up art and that you should follow your heart. Your mom agrees and points out that it’s okay to figure things out after college.  
  
When you’ve finished your third cup of green tea, you notice that Beca’s hiding her yawns behind her hand and you see how tired her eyes look.  
  
“Beca’s been driving all day.” You state while getting up. “I think I should make sure she gets some rest.”  
  
“Of course!” Your father agrees. “And Beca, thank you for getting our little girl here safe and sound.” His hands fall on the girl’s shoulders and tighten once before he releases her and heads into the living room.  
  
“We are so happy you could join Chloe.” Your mother says, suddenly emotional, and you watch her put her arms around your friend, showing no intention to release her any time soon.  
  
Beca’s face resembles that of a child having to say goodbye to their mom on the first day of pre-school. Shock over the situation screams through her eyes and uncertainty with what to do follows.  
  
“Mom.” You remind her with your lips pressed together and your eyebrow up in a hinting way. “Remember what I said about the hugging?”  
  
Your mother lets go then and Beca awkwardly smiles at the woman.  
  
“Yeah, she doesn’t like to be touched by old people.” John says with a grin from ear to ear while keeping his mother’s eye.  
  
“Watch it, Johnny. I’ll have you sit at the kid’s table tomorrow.”  
  
His face falters at that and you can’t help but laugh, together with Beca and your mom.  
  
“Beca, the guest room next to Chloe’s old room is ready for you.” Your mother says and she squeezes Beca’s arm one last time before following the path your dad took towards the living room.  
  
“I’ll show you.” You wink at your friend and you struggle to walk the stairs with the amount of bags you brought. The long hallway turns 90 degrees two times before you’re able to reach your childhood bedroom. You open the door to the guest bedroom first. It’s just a plain room with all the necessities and you watch Beca ditch her bags before you head to the room next door. It’s exactly the way you left it a few months ago, not to your surprise. Your parents always keep your room the way it is.  
  
“Oh my God.” Beca yelps from behind you. When you turn, you see she’s holding a frame which shows a picture of you and your family when you were around the age of six. “This is the cutest.” Beca states as she takes her phone out of her pocket and snaps a pic of it.  
  
“That was after my first musical.” You state as you take the frame out of her hand. “I wasn’t always dressed as Annie.”  
  
“Could have fooled me.” Beca says as she checks out the rest of the room. “The wig looks insanely real.”  
  
“Oh, that wasn’t a wig, Becs.”  
  
The girl’s mouth falls open in glee, the corners of her set of lips spreading each to a side, her eyes growing in size and covering her face in something you can only describe as happiness. “You had hair like Annie?!” She yelps out in a questioning manner.  
  
“It was a phase.” You admit honestly. You believe the red curls of hair were the only reason you got the part in the school musical in the first place, because you were cast before they even heard you sing. In their defense, it was a school play with six year olds; it wasn’t taken seriously.  
  
“I am so glad to be here.” Beca says with excitement in her voice as her eyes scan the other photos in the room.  
  
You wonder if that’s just because of the embarrassing photos in your room, -which aren’t that embarrassing at all, just leverage for Beca to make fun of you, which she does anyway- or perhaps she’s actually glad to be here. Her first encounter with your parents and brother were good from what you could tell, and Beca’s not expressing anything to counter that. Even if her words are hinting at the photos, you hope she _feels_ like she’s welcome here. “I am glad you’re here, too.” You say honestly, trying to see if the girl is up for anything serious.  
  
Her eyes lock on yours for a few, long seconds with her jaw frozen shut before her lips tuck and the tension in her face gets released. “Not even having hair like Annie humiliates you.” Beca speaks unsurprised. “Of course it doesn’t.”  
  
You just shrug and take a seat on your childhood bed, the mattress even softer than you remembered it, and you watch Beca wander through your room before deciding she’s seen it all and she falls down beside you on the bed, the back of her hands covering her eyes with her arms stretching out next to her.  
  
“Tired?” You ask as you turn a little away from the side of the bed to watch the girl. Your hand falls immediately in contact with Beca, fingers trailing over the exposed skin between her lifted up shirt and the denim of her pants. The abs underneath your fingers tighten instantly at the touch, but the flinch only lasts a second. After that, they most likely stay hardened because of your cold fingers on her stomach. “What do you think of my parents and John?”  
  
“They’re alright, I guess.” Beca deadpans. You don’t have to look up to know she’s rolling her eyes dramatically.  
  
“You like them.” You state proud, your eyes and fingers still on the girls lower abdomen.  
  
“I don’t _like_ them. You are all weird. You’re like robots or clones or something.” Beca pulls her body into a seated position and her face is suddenly so close, you believe she’s going to kiss you, or so you’d hoped. Instead, she pushes you forward and you rest your forehead against her shoulder while her face remains on the right side of you and her fingers dance over the back of your neck. “Where do you keep the implanted chips? Where are they?!” Beca acts serious, but the sound of her voice gives her away. “You can’t possibly all be this nice and happy, come on, where are the microchips?!”  
  
When Beca first entered your room in college on that cloudy Thursday, you could have never imagined that the grumpy ball of rage could ever make you laugh the way you do now. You could have never imagined she would hurt you in the most beautiful way, pulling at the muscles in your stomach and hardening them to a point of physical pain. You knew this girl was going to make you suffer, but what blissful state of undergoing pain it is.  
  
The hand that was trailing Beca’s skin earlier has now rested around the girl’s back and you keep it there while you get your breathing evened out.  
  
“I’m going to bed.” Beca’s hot breath touches your skin right before you feel her lips at the same place, pressing lightly against your cheek.  
  
Her body quickly makes space for cold air between the two of you as she moves off the bed. The hand that’s been in contact with her ever since she fell down next to you isn’t ready to be without her yet, so it clings to her skin and eventually the girl’s hand, keeping her from leaving the room. “Look at that, Beca Mitchell, going to bed at nine thirty.”  
  
“I don’t think I’m allowed to sleep until noon tomorrow, so.” Beca replies, her eyes at the enlaced set of hands between the two of you.  
  
“You could sleep here?” You pitch carefully, meeting Beca’s eye through heavy eyelashes.  
  
“No way.” Beca scoffs. “I’m not getting kicked out of this mansion just because you can’t keep your hormones in check.” Beca points out, a smile satisfied on her face while she points with her free hand at you in blame. “I’ll see you in the morning, stop pouting!”  
  
You just pout more, but you reluctantly give her back her hand and you watch her make her way out of the room.  
  
“Goodnight, Becs.”  
  
“Night, Beale.”

* * *

  
The morning of Thanksgiving arrives and you wake up happier than ever. You’re in your childhood bedroom, you get to see your family again and, on top of all that, you have your friend with you.  
  
You head to the bathroom before anything else and you spend a good part of the hour in the bathtub. You have missed the chance to bathe in a tub while being in college where they only have shower stalls, so you take advantage of the opportunity.  
  
When you exit the bathroom, it’s around seven thirty and you can hear your family talking downstairs in the kitchen. You think they must be ready for breakfast, so you quickly get dressed and head towards the room next to yours to check on your friend.  
  
To your surprise, the room is empty. When you walk into the kitchen and see your father almost choking on his laughter with Beca beside him, you think you must still be dreaming.  
  
“Hi honey, there’s a cup of tea for you on the counter.” Your mother kisses your cheek and runs her hand through your wet hair in adjustment.  
  
John appears from behind your mom and he hands you the cup she most likely prepared for you. You give him a quick hug and he kisses the top of your head in return.  
  
Recovering from the shock of seeing Beca awake **_and_** smiling before eight in the morning, you make your way to where your dad and your friend are seated at the bar in the kitchen. You stand behind them and place a kiss on your dad’s cheek.  
  
“Oh hey, pumpkin. Beca here was just telling us about her job at a nightclub.” Your dad starts laughing again. “Beca, tell her what you just told me.”  
  
“Oh, Chloe wouldn’t get it, sir.” Beca says with a cheeky smile.  
  
It’s the second time she’s used your first name, which makes sense since she’s around your family, but it still hits you and lays heavy in your stomach. In need of contact, but knowing you can’t greet your friend the same way you do with your parents and brother, you decide to drape your arms around the seated girl’s body, hands resting lightly against her chest and feeling her gulp because of it. “Wouldn’t get what?” You speak happily.  
  
Beca doesn’t answer, so your dad does.  
  
“No, sweetheart, Beca is right. You need the full story for it.”  
  
You lean your body purposely against Beca while putting your now empty cup on the counter in front of your friend, the hand that’s free and still in contact with Beca moves teasingly just below her collarbones, just because it’s fun to watch the girl’s face light up in embarrassment.  
  
Your friend’s body tenses up in shock and you release her just before you reckon she’d launch herself out of your arms and possibly out of the house as well.  
  
You do, however, make sure she knows it was fully intentional by throwing her a wink.

* * *

  
After breakfast, your sisters arrive and together with your mother, tradition wise, you start to prepare the Thanksgiving dinner. You’ve not even finished getting everything out of the fridge when someone turns the radio up and you spend the next half an hour dancing all through the kitchen and the extended dining area with your mother and sisters.  
  
You have always been a really close family. Moving away for college might have been the hardest day in your young life, up to that point. You didn’t spend every waking minute of those seventeen years trapped in your family’s house, you weren’t _that_ kind of close. Occasionally, you or one of your siblings would spend a few nights at a friend’s house, but contact remained through phone calls and text messages.  
  
You remember missing your parents and siblings after just a couple of hours. In your final year of high school, you started having friends over in your house more often than going over to theirs, just for the sake of having your family within reach. Your sisters and John started to do the same, so you ended up having one big group of people connected to either one or the other, which quickly turned all of them into friends.  
  
Someone once asked you which sibling you’re closest to, but you couldn’t make that decision if you had a gun to your head. You love them equally and you have had great moments with each of them. You’re fortunate your siblings are your best friends as well.  
  
The kitchen activities are approximately 20 per cent chopping and preparing food and 80 per cent dancing and goofing around when Beca walks into the room after her shower. She makes eye contact with you, both surprised at the encounter and unsure what to do with the situation.  
  
You find relief in her calm body language, though. Her eyes, however widened at the scene, are light and carry no worry in them. Her face, including the girl’s jaw, is relaxed and beautiful. Her hands are pushed into the pockets of her pants, but they’re not clenched into a fist and her feet are moving towards you instead of away from you.  
  
“Mrs. Beale, is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
You remember the first few weeks you had Beca Mitchell in your life, you thought of her as rude and generally speaking not exactly nice. After hearing the tone in which your friend has spoken to your mother and her choice of words, you know you’ll never think that of her again.  
  
“Of course, dear. How was the shower? Could you find everything?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am, it was great, thank you.”  
  
If you didn’t know Beca had a good heart before those words exited her mouth, you may have wondered if someone drugged your friend and the intoxication had turned her into a completely different person.  
  
Your mother puts her arm around your friend and you can see Beca fighting off the instinctive reaction of her body. The two of them walk towards the fridge where your mother acts way too secretive. When Beca turns her body just enough for you to see, you spot a big chocolate chip cookie in her hands and halfway down her throat. Her face has turned into pure happiness.  
  
“Where are _our_ cookies, mom?” You ask nonchalant as if noticing it wasn’t even that difficult while continuing to peel the potatoes with your eyes on the food.  
  
“Cookies?!” Your one-year older sister Sarah yelps out before running to where your mother and friend are standing. You decide to watch the encounter and you find Beca with a stuffed mouth looking guilty as ever.  
  
“I made these especially for Beca.” Your mother explains firm. “Chloe told me these are her favorite, so these are for her. I have other cookies for you.”  
  
Your sisters simultaneously sigh their defeat and get back to chopping vegetables. Their mood lights up again when the Spice Girls with Wannabe blasts through the speakers and they even drag Beca with them to dance and act out some weird moves with their hands.  
  
Beca seems uncomfortable, so you stay put next to your mother and continue working on the food, knowing your friend can get out of a situation as innocent as this one if she pleases, and secretly you like the small torture. _That’s what you get when you’re the only one who gets homemade chocolate chip cookies._  
  
You eye the situation a few times. You find Beca in the middle of your two sisters, trying to escape like a prisoner on death row, but your sisters are taller than you and their long legs have no trouble keeping your friend from fleeing the dance circle.  
  
“Thanks for the help, Beale!” Beca bumps into you after the song ended, breathing heavily and exhausted, the way she does after running two laps at Bellas practice, her voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance.  
  
Her heavy breathing continues and suddenly it reminds you of other occasions where her breathing was quick like it is now. The thought hits you all at once, but those are easier to ignore than the tingling between your legs.  
  
And it’s stupid, you know it is.  
  
But the girl is close to you, looking rather flustered and drips of sweat on her forehead, together with the in- and exhaling of air, it does things to you to say the least.  
  
You could easily dip your head down and kiss Beca’s lips.  
  
You could.  
  
You won’t, because your mother and sisters are present and you would not be able to let it go unnoticed.  
  
But you could, and that fact alone causes (what feels like) rocks to settle in your stomach.  
  
Beca seems to have gathered herself again, unaware what she has caused inside of your body. It reminds you that you haven’t even said anything yet, so you try to send prompts to your mouth.  
  
“You looked like you were having fun.” You say with a giggle, forcing your focus back on the potatoes in your hands.  
  
“Those two are worse than you are, you know that?” Beca points serious and blaming at your sisters who are still dancing together.  
  
“Is that a challenge?” You speak with your usual teasing voice. Your hand reacts on instant, pulling at the button on Beca’s pants and unfastening it skilled.  
  
“Dude!” Beca shrieks, slapping your hand away from her and taking a step back. Her face shows terror as she checks the people behind you. “Don’t.” She quietly orders with a threatening look while buttoning her pants back together.  
  
She should really know better by now than to give you that look. It only encourages you to say the least. You take the step she took away from you and press your body lightly against your friend’s, resting one hand behind her on the counter to trap her. “Don’t what?” You ask mischievous.  
  
“Beale, stop it.” Beca hisses for no one else to hear but you.  
  
“But it’s fun.” You say truthfully, your hand releasing the counter to slip into Beca’s back pocket of her pants to squeeze her butt.  
  
Beca jumps out of your trap after that. Her scolding look is doing nothing in her favor. It just makes you want her more. “Fun for you, maybe.” Beca replies poker-faced. “I was serious last night, Beale!” Beca whispers through gritted teeth. “I know I’m irresistible-“ Beca shrugs suddenly covered with arrogance.  
  
Instead of laughing at the girl, which you think is what she wants out of you, you just raise your eyebrows in a knowing way. You lick your lips slowly, catching Beca’s eyes following the movement, before taking a step closer again.  
  
“-But!-” Beca states as she dodges your touch as if they’re bullets, remembering her sentence wasn’t finished yet. “-I think you should be able to keep it in your pants for these few days, alright?”  
  
“Beca, sweetheart, would you mind preparing the salad?” Your mother suddenly proposes from behind you.  
  
“Yes!” Beca replies way too enthusiastic for salad, her hands turned into finger guns as she smiles softly at your mother. “Salad! Great. I’ll get right on that, Mrs. Beale.”  
  
Your mom thanks Beca and returns to her spot a few feet away while you watch your friend dive into the refrigerator to get the necessities.  
  
“How about I keep you in my pants?” You eventually throw the girl’s way. It’s not your best innuendo, but you think it will do the trick.  
  
Beca ditches the ingredients on the counter and turns frustrated, but you can see she’s not surprised by your words. Her mouth opens to scold again, but her face falters and a small laugh escapes the young woman. “You’re unbelievable.” She says with a shake of the head.  
  
“I’ve been told.” You agree with a confident shrug.  
  
“I’m going to stand over there.” Beca points out while trying to carry all the items. “And I’m not getting kicked out of this house, so get into your own pants, because you’re not getting into mine.” Beca says serious as she passes you and you follow her until she’s standing between your sisters and you can even see them chatting.  
  
It warms your heart to see how well your family gets along with Beca and vice versa. It also makes you happy that your friend not only wants to stay; she wants to prevent getting kicked out. Before coming here, you had considered the plausible possibility of the girl leaving. Now, she seems eager to stay.  
  
As happy as that makes you, something else is to blame for the large smile on your face.  
  
_You’re totally gonna have sex with Beca Mitchell in your parents’ house._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show hands if you think Chloe's gonna succeed in her mission! Everyone? Yeah, I agree haha ;p
> 
> Hope y'all are enjoying it so far, let me know what you liked and what you wanna see more of! Come talk to me about these dumb nerds at tumblr, I'm lifeisbechloe ;D


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Home is not where you are from, it is where you belong. Some of us travel the whole world to find it. Others, find it in a person." -Beau Taplin
> 
> /

Even though the introduction with Mr. and Mrs. Beale was rather awkward, the next member of the family you get to meet is Rufus, an adorable Labrador with a bright yellow coat of hair. You feel blessed that he’s greeting you extendedly before anyone else.  
  
The next Beale you’re introduced to is Chloe’s brother John. Even though he’s younger than his sister, he stands tall above her with broad shoulders. His hair is dark and they match the color of his eyes. His smile, like Mrs. Beale’s, glows the way you thought only Chloe’s could, even though they could in a way never compare.  
  
Like you imagine a little brother would, John teases Chloe, but never with anything but love in his eyes.  
  
You get along with the boy. He’s easy to talk to, like his sister. He talks about music and you learn it’s always been an important aspect within the family. You could’ve guessed Chloe’s ability to sing the way she does wasn’t taught, but simply encouraged over her young years within this family. John says that while all his sisters loved to sing, he liked to keep to the background with his guitar or piano. You don’t even know why you ask, but you could have known the answer.  
  
“No, I taught myself to play. And my dad helped. He’s a great musician.”  
  
_This whole fucking family is a goldmine, apparently.  
_  
You’re glad you only had to get to really talk to one member of the family tonight, not counting the small talk with Chloe’s parents. After driving almost twelve hours and spending most of those hours worrying about one thing or another, tiredness hits you. Instead of crashing immediately at the sight of your designated bed, you decide to check out Chloe’s childhood bedroom. It may have singlehandedly be the best decision you have ever made.  
  
The room is filled with treasures, each priceless on their own. Your favorites are the pictures of your friend and her family, but the cute drawings of Chloe in her early teens and the printed pictures of actors and famous singers on the back of her door are also pretty great. It gives you a better picture of the girl you share a room with in college.  
  
Of course the confident woman doesn’t care that she has drawn hearts at Luke Bryan’s picture or that she was a real life Annie at age six.  
  
“Tired?” Chloe asks after you’ve collapsed on her bed.  
  
You were. You could have easily fallen asleep right there and then, but after the words have left her mouth, her fingers find your skin and you can’t help the tension spreading through your body. Her fingers are a little cold, but soft and gentle nonetheless, tracing invisible patterns on your lower stomach. It wakes your body better than energy drinks ever did.  
  
She asks about your opinion on her family and you downplay your answer, because honestly this family is like perfect. Her parents welcomed you with open arms without even knowing you. You would have easily showed them some ID or your criminal record had they asked, to prove them you’ve never once stolen a thing in your life and they don’t have to hide valuable items or worry you’ll take something from the house.  
  
Although aware of the fact that you were arrested less than two weeks ago -which Mr. Beale had no problem showing he knew about right off the bat- the man and his wife have no problem allowing you entrance into their _fucking mansion_. And not even do they allow you in, they make you _feel_ like you’re wanted there. They are sweet and caring and probably the nicest couple you have ever met. It’s no wonder their kids, two of the four you now know, but no doubt the others as well, are so wonderful and charming.  
  
Instead of telling Chloe all that, you goof around and her laugh echoing through the room fuels you to continue until the girl expresses the pain it causes in her stomach. You allow her to catch her breath while you try to remember how you got so close to her.  
  
More importantly, why you didn’t even process moving in and connecting your hands to her skin. How that suddenly could happen unnoticed. How that no longer frightens you to do.  
  
Tiredness comes back like an annoying ad on your unpaid subscription of the app you use to play music on your phone.  
  
“I’m going to bed.” You say reluctantly. You kiss her cheek without much thought to it and force yourself off of the bed. Your friend’s hand moves from your back to your hip, slightly over your thigh until it takes the hand hanging beside your body.  
  
You walk around the bed, but the girl’s hand stays glued to yours. Chloe’s offer to sleep in her room gets dismissed immediately thanks to your rational mind, but it stays with you long after you’ve left the room.  
  
You barely sleep that night, although the bed is better than anything you’ve ever slept on. But you couldn’t get your mind to stop racing and you even wondered if the turning of your stomach meant you were going to be sick.  
  
_How cruel would that be, having the flu on Thanksgiving.  
_  
After hours of tossing and turning, falling asleep occasionally for no more than four hours all together, you can’t stand to be in the cold room anymore. You make your way through the house, fairly certain the rest of the house is fast asleep.  
  
You feel both at ease in these hallways and uncomfortable walking through a house that’s not yours. You decide to just walk downstairs without a stop. When you do, you find Rufus, the family’s dog for over a decade at the bottom of the stairs. His tail starts wagging the second he sees you and you place yourself on the floor next to him. The dog, happy with the attention, turns on his back and you take the offer and stroke his belly.  
  
“I thought I heard something!”  
  
“Holy s-“  
  
The man coming from the dark kitchen scares you to say the least, but you’re able to regain yourself before the entirety of the swear words had left your mouth. The man doesn’t seem to mind though, he just pets the dog who has come up to greet him.  
  
“-I mean, Mr. Beale, hi. I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anyone here yet.” You speak apologetic, taking two steps up the stairs to leave the man by his lonesome.  
  
“Oh don’t be silly, Beca.” The man waves your words off and you take his body language as an invite to follow him. “You want a cup of coffee?”  
  
You don’t know what gets into you that you take the offer. You think it must be so you at least have something to occupy yourself with in case things get awkward. The bitter taste of it reminds you why you never drink coffee.  
  
“You must think I’m a strange man for sitting in the dark like this.” The man laughs a little at his own words.  
  
“No, not at all.” You say honestly. You’ve never been a fan of bright lights yourself. You prefer a room with the lights off and the blinds closed, no matter the time of day.  
  
“I like the silence early on.” The man admits quietly while sipping his coffee. “I like to watch the light stream inside.”  
  
You ponder the words instead of replying.   
  
“You will miss the silence too when you the house is full of people in a few hours.” The man continues with glee in his voice, his hand patting you on the back as he gets out of the chair to refill his cup.  
  
“So, Mr. Beale, I just wanted to thank you again, for letting me stay here.” You stumble through the sentence, feeling rather itchy when the man sits down next to you without filling up the silence, -even though the man already did most of the talking and you have done nothing but nod at his words-.  
  
“Oh Beca, please. You take care of our baby girl every day. It’s the least we can do.”  
  
Images of how you _‘take care’_ of his daughter flash by, but you push them out as quickly as you can.  
  
“Chloe speaks about you a lot. She’s really quite fond of you.” Your friend’s father admits. “I’m glad she has you, Beca. You’re a good friend.”  
  
You appreciate the man’s lie, but you know if he knew you at all, he wouldn’t bother saying that. “That’s very nice, Mr. Beale, but I’m afraid it’s the other way around.” All you believe you’ve done for the girl is complicate things, both in the group of Bellas as her personal life. Because of you, there’s tension between her and her best friend, the two captains of the little glee club. And you’re pretty sure she doesn’t need someone who would rather fight than talk. The girl is in her senior year of college, sure she has better things to do than make sure you get the best out of yourself and help you with your educational issues.  
  
The man starts to explain all the ways you’ve apparently helped your friend. You had no idea of most of them, and you still don’t think all of them count, or any at all. “-Personally, I believe seeing you do so well in your line of work has really helped Chloe to focus more and work harder for what she wants in life.” Your friend’s father tells you. “She’s very appreciative of you, Beca.”  
  
You smile at the man next to you and he nods, understanding your move. You feel strangely emotional over what the adult has informed you about. Not emotional as if you’re going to burst out in tears any second, but a softness –that’s been there for a while now- inside your chest expands slowly. You feel like you’re losing property of that spot to Chloe. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to you anymore.  
  
“Anyway, a friend of my daughter’s is a friend of mine, so tell me about yourself.”

* * *

  
After talking to Mr. Beale in the early hours of the day, the family awakes one by one and the look on Chloe’s face when she finds you is one you won’t ever forget. Of course she punishes you for being smug shortly after, causing you to walk to the breakfast table with heated cheeks.  
  
You’ve never had breakfast at an actual table with the family all around. Growing up, your mom and you ate together in front of the TV when there was time, which was usually only there in the weekends. You think you either skipped breakfast on school days or you ate on the way over. Your dad had a spot on the kitchen table where he read the paper and ate his morning meal. That’s the only thing the kitchen table were used for. You can’t remember ever sitting there yourself.  
  
It’s weird how such a little meaningless thing can show the difference in the two families.  
  
You sit at the end of the table with John next to you and Chloe in front of you, who slips her feet between your ankles every chance she gets, which means every time you engage in a conversation with the girl’s parents, specifically when you’re just about to speak and Chloe’s actions cause the words to falter in the back of your throat.  
  
You survive breakfast with the Beale’s, somehow, and during cleaning up, Chloe’s sisters arrive. They’re taller than your friend and they both have blonde hair, but other than that, they’re basically the same.  
  
_Clones. You knew it.  
_  
You continue to clean up while Chloe and her family greet the newly arrived girls and you wonder how people can enjoy their bodies being trapped by other bodies for minutes in a row as much as they do, laughter and eventually crying fill the room.  
  
You can handle quite a lot from other people.  
  
That’s a lie.  
  
You can handle quite a lot from Chloe. Emotions, _not really_ , but positive emotions better than the negative ones. You can handle pretty much anything Chloe does with a smile plastered to her face, but watching tears roll down her cheeks feels like a knife went right through your chest.  
  
You don’t understand why she’s crying. In your book, you only cry when something bad happens, but you can’t see anything bad happening to the girl who’s embracing her family warmly.  
  
Negative emotions, of perhaps just crying, make you uncomfortable. You don’t know what you’re required to do in a situation like that. Should you hand over tissues or offer comfort within your own arms, -which you doubt brings anyone real comfort.  
  
Instead of doing anything at all, you turn away from the situation and start washing the dishes, desperate to occupy yourself with something _real_.  
  
Of course that seemed like a good idea at the moment, but when the two sisters come up to you to greet you, your hands are wet and covered in soap and unable to properly introduce yourself.  
  
“Oh, uh, hi, I’m Beca.” You state with an apologetic look on your face, your wet hands weakly hanging in the air between you, hoping they’ll settle with just a verbal introduction.  
  
_Of course, the girls are Chloe’s sisters, so what were you even thinking?  
_  
Lucy, as you learn after an awkward hug where she acted so fast, you had no time to respond which led to your wet and soaped hands being squashed between you and the girl’s body, is the eldest of the children. That means the next girl who throws her arms around you, where you somehow again end up with your hands trapped and awkward, is Sarah.  
  
Lucy has left your space to go back to hugging her parents while Sarah stays and compliments your shirt. You’re glad the girl knows the band, which means she has great taste in music, but it also reminds you that it’s the clothes you slept in and you should definitely go and shower.

* * *

  
You’ve never been a good cook. You can manage yourself around a meal for yourself and since you moved into the dorm with Chloe, occasionally for her as well, but a Thanksgiving dinner for a whole family is way out of your skill level. So you’re glad Mrs. Beale only lets you work on the little things, like preparing the different kinds of salad and chopping food. Although you’re also anxious about fucking those things up.  
  
And if that’s not enough, you have to fight off Chloe’s hands every time she walks by.  
  
You already moved to the other side of the kitchen in an attempt to stop your friend’s flirting. For God’s sake, you moved to the spot in between her sisters and her mother behind you, you moved to a spot where _people_ were within your reach, she should know how serious you are about this.  
  
But, of course, Chloe doesn’t let distance stop her and, even when she has no excuse to walk by, she somehow finds one. Pressing her front to your back trying to reach something on the counter in front of you, squeezing your butt while talking to her mother, - _really Beale?!,_ she doesn’t let anything stop her.  
  
And you’re glad her family either doesn’t care or they don’t seem to notice, but it doesn’t stop your eyes from throwing Chloe scolding glares, your jaw from locking and your cheeks from lighting up.  
  
Any other situation, you would enjoy the teasing and her hands on your body, but with her family around, you can’t let yourself go there and accept the warmth floating through you. You wish your friend would allow you to breathe, damn it.  
  
“Beca, honey, we are so lucky you are here with us on this Thanksgiving-” Chloe’s mother speaks when you’ve moved to stand next to her. “-but won’t your own family miss you, dear?”  
  
You have to swallow hard at the words of ‘ _your own family’_ , because you don’t know who to think of with those words. You find Chloe’s eyes at the other side of the kitchen. You know she has overheard the conversation and her eyes are sweet and tender, giving you the feeling of safety and knowing it’s okay if you don’t tell her mom everything.  
  
“I don’t think I’ll be missed.” You reply with a smile, trying to make the words sound light and not as gloomy as they could be interpreted.  
  
“Honey!” Her mother yelps out, evidently missing your intended point. “Don’t say that! I’m sure your parents would love to have you around. Take it from me, it’s hard not seeing your children every day.”  
  
“Actually,-“ You hate that you can feel your face fall and you hate that you can’t do anything about it. “-my mother isn’t around anymore. My father remarried, but-“ You hesitate sharing any more information, especially when you can feel the woman’s eyes on you in pity and sadness, but her hand is soft and warm on your arm and you have this strange feeling of security if you choose to release the words. You only then realize you have no idea how to finish that sentence, even if you could.  
  
“I am so sorry to hear that, dear. I’m sure she’s very proud of the young woman you’ve become.”  
  
You know the adult lady means well, but you have a hard time believing your mother would be proud of anything you’ve done these last four and a half years. You can practically feel your walls rising again, stone by stone growing around your body until they’re standing strong and high again, ready to protect you from the outside as well as keep everything inside safe and locked up.  
  
But then you feel Chloe’s hand on the small of your back. Her gentleness reminds you of the fact that although she has shared a lot of information about you to her family, more good than bad you believe, she never told them about your mother’s death. You meet her eyes and you think she gets your gratitude when you see her stretched out smile.  
  
“Becs, you mind helping me with the chicken?”  
  
You know exactly that the question is more like a rescue mission, but you don’t mind being rescued out of that conversation, so you nod and follow Chloe back to her previously owned spot in the kitchen. Instead of mentioning anything about the words you’ve just shared with her mother, Chloe sings along to the radio and bumps her hips against yours every now and then, either throwing a wink your way or a giggle to satisfy your ears when you look at her annoyed at the action.

* * *

  
The first doorbell rings just before four o’clock and the default tune comes in quicker and quicker after that, sometimes just seconds apart. You’re introduced to uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents, nieces, nephews -all whose names you’re too lazy to even try to remember.  
  
Chloe stays in your presence a lot, hooking your arms together as she engages in conversation with different family members. You focus more on hiding the boredom on your face than what either of the parties have to say.  
  
After what feels like an eternity, Chloe’s sister Sarah comes by to inform everyone dinner’s about to be served. You use your friend’s hooked arm in yours to drag her away from relatives and make your way to the dining area.  
  
You will be damned if you wait another second to be fed.  
  
“Are you that hungry, Becs? Or just worried you won’t have a seat next to me?” Chloe whispers in your ear as you make your way through the group of people standing in your way to get to the food.  
  
“How are you even asking me that?” You throw back annoyed. “You know I haven’t had lunch today.”  
  
Chloe just laughs and her hooked arm falls, her fingers sliding over your bicep to the inside of your wrist until she can hold your hand.  
  
The table where you had breakfast this morning has grown in side, three extra tables added to it to extend it and have room enough for everyone. There’s a smaller table as well, you reckon it’s for the kids, but you can’t help but think those tiny chairs might fit you better than the normal ones.  
  
You don’t tell Chloe this. She’ll laugh her ass off at the fact that you have trouble touching the ground in the adult chairs.  
  
Chloe takes a seat in the very middle of the room and you roll your eyes, because _of-fucking-course_. You continue your path to the end of the table, but when the girl calls you back with a pouting face, you have no choice but to sit down next to her.  
  
“Trust me.” Chloe whispers when you’ve taken the seat. At first, your face was turned into a scowl, not trusting her at all. But when you follow her eyes, you see that the table that’s already filled with bowls of food has a big empty spot right in front of where you’re seated.  
  
A turkey sized empty spot.  
  
You could jump the girl right there and then, not even caring about the people entering the room, but you know she’s never going to let you hear the end of it if you do, so instead you squeeze the girl’s lips together, your thumb and index finger on the corners of the girl’s mouth, pursing them before pecking them with your own lips. You continue to squeeze the girl’s cheeks even after your lips have kissed her, finding it somewhat adorable the way your friend looks with her scrunched up little face.  
  
“Don’t get your hopes up, that was just for the turkey.” You say threatening before you allow the girl her face back and you nonchalantly look at the boring people around you.  
  
“If you want me to stop flirting with you, you shouldn’t kiss me, Becs.”  
  
“Like anything can stop you from flirting.” You scoff.  
  
Chloe’s brother John takes the seat next to you and her sister Lucy sits down beside her, while Sarah sits on the opposite side of the table, together with Mr. and Mrs. Beale. There’s an uncle sitting opposite of John who’s easy to talk to. He’s mostly just telling jokes and making fun of the people seated at the dinner table, which causes you to laugh your eyeballs out.  
  
Mr. Beale rises from his chair after a few minutes and the noise brought from the people in the room gradually dies out. He explains his gratitude for the fact that everyone in the room had chosen to share the holiday with them. “I know we’re all hungry,-“ The man says with a chuckle. “-so we won’t do a round, but I’d like to say I’m grateful for everyone here, and I’m especially thankful to have my beautiful daughters back in the house for a few days.”  
  
You turn to look at the girls in question, like everyone else at the table does, and you see both Chloe and Lucy placing their lips on the inside of their hands and blowing a metaphorical kiss towards their dad. Sarah, who’s seated next to the man, has jumped around his neck to give him a hug.  
  
The man continues talking while Mrs. Beale enters the room with the turkey and places it right in front of you. The smell of the food temporarily blocks out the noise and fills your every sense with dying hunger.  
  
“-which is why I’m giving it to my son John this year.” You watch Mr. Beale hand the boy next to you the knife he was holding during his speech. “And the first piece will go to a very special guest. Chloe brought a friend this year and, Beca, we are very fortunate to have you with us.”  
  
You keep your eyes locked on the man talking to you, because everyone’s eyes are on you and you wouldn’t know where to look at otherwise, and you feel your entire body heating up while the muscles in your face twitch. You hope no one notices it through your fake smiles.  
  
“Oh, John, that’s too big. Make it a small piece. Beca isn’t that big herself.”  
  
Your natural and default scowl cover your face at the man’s words, but Chloe pokes your ribs before it turned into a full death glare, so you laugh along with the people at the table, throwing your friend a look to show you’re going to make her pay for this.  
  
At the end of the evening, when you’ve eaten more than you normally eat in a week’s time, Mr. Beale apologizes for underestimating you like he did.  
  
You don’t know if he’s impressed or disgusted, but you can’t really say that you care.  
  
  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
When you invited your roommate to spend Thanksgiving with your family, you could never predict you’d be here, laughing long past the point of hurting cheeks, watching Beca and your brother compete in some sort of green bean casserole contest -which Beca wins- followed by a more disgusting contest which involves turkey gravy, mashed potatoes and different kinds of vegetables. You can’t really tell who won that one, because Uncle Jeff, seated in front of John, started to add mushrooms and corn to the mix, without the two of them noticing.  
  
It’s fun to see Beca in this environment.  
  
Somewhere that she doesn’t have to be on her toes. Somewhere peaceful that doesn’t trigger her to snap. Somewhere that releases her stress instead of add to it.  
  
You never thought your childhood home could provide that.  
  
You don’t think it’s necessarily you or your family that brings that out, but you start to realize how stressful the situation with her father must be, as well as the girl trying to stay in college.  
  
You’ve never had issues on those fields. Your family never stressed you out and going to classes was as normal as waking up. So you never took into account that Beca’s tension filled body might be due to the situation she’s been in lately. Maybe if she were in LA and had a good relationship with her father, she’d be a completely different person.  
  
Although you know that’s not true. Someone is not who they are because of their surroundings. It can change them, sure. But little things. Nothing too drastic. Nothing character wise.  
  
Still, it’s nice to see Beca loosened up like this.  
  
It does, however, make it harder to keep your hands off of your crush. Not that you’ve been succeeding in that _at all_ , but your hand on her thigh during dinner and now, while cleaning up, resting on her lower back -or maybe a little lower than that, judging from the glares Beca sends you-, just doesn’t do it for you anymore.  
  
You consider dragging her away from your family just to kiss her for a second or two, but she’s doing the dishes with your sisters and John, and your great-aunt keeps you trapped in the dining area with talk about how she used to babysit you and your siblings and how quickly you grew up.  
  
You escape the conversation as fast yet respectful as you can, and you join your family in the kitchen.  
  
“Beca, sweetheart, you really don’t have to do that.”  
  
Your mom seems to try to get the dish towel out of Beca’s hands while her arms are spread, as if to guide her towards the living room.  
  
Beca just laughs, making you believe this isn’t your mother’s first attempt to get Beca out of the kitchen area.  
  
“Beale, finally.” She says when she notices you standing near the counter. “Will you tell your mother to go join her guests?”  
  
“You’re also a guest.” Your mother states. “Guests don’t have to do the dishes.” She makes another attempt to steal the towel from your friend’s hands, but Beca is too fast to retract her hands from your mother’s reach.  
  
“Mom, Beca is very stubborn.” You say chuckling. “You won’t win this one, believe me.” Your eyes lock on Beca’s while your hands softly wrap around your mother’s arms to guide her out of the kitchen. She objects, but ends up walking into the living room on her own, defeated. When you turn back, you get hit in the face with a dish towel.  
  
“You are _not_ dismissed.” John says, his smile giving him away as the perpetrator.  
  
You take the towel and turn it into a whip to smack the boy’s butt. He, in return, puts his hands in the sink where Lucy is washing the dishes to fill his hands with soap and blows it right into your face. His laughter echoes through the entire room.  
  
“You’re so childish.” Lucy whispers annoyed. “Is she like this with you, too?” Her voice is raised and her eyes on Beca as she hands her a wet plate.  
  
“Annoying? Oh, definitely.” You hear Beca reply while you and John continue to hit each other’s body with towels. “Different than this, though. But annoying for sure.”  
  
You turn away from your brother to smack Beca with the item, impacting the young woman’s butt with a loud thud. You wait with explaining yourself until Beca’s eyes are on you and her yelping has stopped. “I heard that.” You say firm before getting a hand full of soap smacked into your face and John’s satisfied grin is all you can see with one unharmed eye.  
  
“Dick.” Beca curses under her breath. “See what I have to deal with?” She turns back to Lucy, most likely.  
  
“Yeah, I don’t know how you do it. I once shared a room with Chlo on vacation. Worst seven days of my life.”  
  
You announce your victory after John slipped and fell onto the ground, due to the soapy mess.  
  
“I’m not cleaning this up.” Sarah, who has a dish towel thrown over her shoulder but seems more invested in texting than actually using that item, states dryly from her seat on the counter.  
  
“I’m a joy to live with.” You say while hugging Lucy from behind, throwing a wink at Beca while she’s watching you, causing her eyes to roll back into her skull.  
  
“Sure you are.” Both your sister and your friend say at the same time, their faces turning towards each other after the words have slipped out and a small laugh escapes them both.  
  
You listen to the two of them mocking you for a few more minutes before your mother reappears into the kitchen.  
  
“Beca, honey, would you mind moving out of the guestroom?”  
  
You watch how your friend’s mouth falls open to say something, but words fail to come out. It doesn’t last long, because your mom goes off into a rant about how she miscalculated some of the cousins and she needs the room.  
  
“Oh, of course.” Beca replies, seemingly relieved. “I can take the couch or if you have an air bed, maybe?”  
  
“Don’t be silly, you can stay in Chloe’s room.” Your mother explains a little too excited.  
  
Beca doesn’t speak, but simply nods. You can’t help yourself, seeing how adorable and shocked the girl looks, you slide your still slightly damp hand over Beca’s back to rest on her hip, her body pulled close to yours. When she looks at you from the corners of her eyes, you simply smile at her as if that explains it all.  
  
“Sure.” Beca pushes out through her locked jaw. “Does she have an air bed?” Beca’s face softens at this final realization, but you watch hope drop off her face when your mother replies.  
  
“Chloe’s friends always used to sleep in bed with her.”  
  
“Didn’t you at one point have like six people over?” Sarah asks you, her eyes shortly leaving the screen of her phone to look at you wondering. You shrug proudly at her words and she scoffs softly as her eyes drop back to her phone.  
  
“Isn’t your bed a single?” Beca whispers with her face scrunched up in disgust and judgement. You guess for Beca it would be a nightmare to have that many people in her personal space, while for you it was just another Friday night.  
  
“We watched a scary movie.” You give as an explanation.  
  
“You watched Chucky.” Lucy says with a small smile on her face, exposing the dimples in her cheeks.  
  
“Isn’t that with the puppet or the doll or something?” Beca asks way too gleeful.  
  
“He kills people, Becs!” You remember feeling petrified after watching that movie with your friends. In your defense, you were around fourteen years of age, but you still get shivers when you think of Chucky, so you don’t think you could use that argument.  
  
“I’m sure you’ll kids have fun. You don’t mind, do you, honey?” Your mother asks as she prepares a few cups of coffee.  
  
“No, Mrs. Beale, it’s no problem.” Beca says nicely. Her voice drops then, eyes on the people in the kitchen who no longer seem to pay attention to the conversation, but her words clearly directed to you. “But we will _not_ have fun.”  
  
It’s cute how wrong your friend is.

* * *

  
“That’s quite a lot of cursing for a Thanksgiving movie.” Beca says after she returns from walking Rufus. You proposed to go with, but Beca denied your offer and you think she needed a little bit of air and time alone.  
  
She’s been doing so amazing, you had to remind yourself a few times that this isn’t in Beca’s lane and she’s not used to encounters like these.  
  
Now, like after every Thanksgiving meal, the whole family’s gathered around in the living room and Planes, Trains and Automobiles is playing, which indeed involves a lot of cursing, but it’s overall just a funny movie and the kids know better than to copy the language.  
  
You move to make place for Beca on the couch who sits down next to you after losing her winter coat.  
  
“You’re freezing.” You say surprised when you feel her cold hand brushes against you. You quickly pass her a blanket from behind the couch to warm her up.  
  
“You’re Beca!”  
  
One of the kids from Uncle Jerry jumps up on Beca’s lap and you think you can literally see the air leave her lungs. The girl, only four years old, bounces unknowingly on Beca’s lap with a huge smile on her face, waiting for her to speak.  
  
You watch Beca’s hands fold around the girl’s sides to stop her fast movements. “And you’re giving me a stroke.” Beca whispers with her eyebrows up for no one else to hear but you. She repositions the girl sideways on her lap and tucks her under the blanket as well. “And you’re Emily.” Beca states with a finger to the girl’s nose, making her squeal.  
  
“What’s this?” Emily asks, her hands wrapped around Beca’s wrist and eyes glowingly fixated on the girl’s tattoo.  
  
“That’s a picture of a set of headphones.”  
  
The little girl’s jaw drops and her hands quickly cover it up. “How did it get there?” She asks as if it’s top secret.  
  
Beca’s eyes find yours, asking you without words what to tell the girl. You lean in and whisper an idea into Beca’s ear, enjoying even the cold that radiates off of her when you’re that close before jumping off the couch to help Beca with her plan.  
  
“Well, sometimes-“ You hear Beca tell your niece. “-when you think of something really, really hard, it will show you a picture of it. Here, watch.”  
  
You’re making your way back to the couch when you see Beca pulling a way too exaggerated face of someone’s who’s thinking before pulling the left side of her shirt down a bit and the girl eagerly jumps up to look at the tattoo your friend has on her shoulder.  
  
Emily starts to let out shrieks of excitements when she sees the magic. “I want one, too!” She yells, causing some of the kids who are more invested in the film playing to throw angry looks your way.  
  
“Okay, but you have to be really quiet.” Beca tells the girl. She must have also noticed some of the looks. “Because this is super-secret.”  
  
Emily then leans close to Beca and you can’t understand what she’s whispering. You can see the shimmering in your friend’s eyes, however.  
  
“Yes, Chloe can know.” Beca sniggers softly. “Chloe has magic as well.”  
  
You feel Beca’s fingertips on your wrist, moving over the inside of your hand to slide her fingers between yours. Her lips tuck slightly in uncertainty, but you fold your fingers over her knuckles and squeeze her hand to let her know it’s okay.  
  
“Where? Where?!” Emily now jumps onto your lap and her hands pull at the top of your shirt to look at your shoulder blades.  
  
“Other magic.” Beca explains.  
  
The little girl falls back on your friend’s body in disappointment, once again slapping the oxygen out of the young woman.  
  
“Why don’t you close your eyes and think of something, Em?” You pitch.  
  
Your niece immediately snaps her eyes shut and starts the assignment. You quickly slip the marker you took from the counter into the hand that’s holding Beca’s and you miss her immediately as she moves away.  
  
“Waterproof?” Beca mouths more than speaks.  
  
“Becs!” You slap the girl’s arm before she gets to work and you distract the girl to make sure she keeps her eyes shut. When Beca’s finished and the marker is back in your possession, you tell your niece to check if it worked. When her eyes find the newly created image on the inside of her wrist, they light up and you would judge the girl’s face as pure happiness if you had to.  
  
“This is exactly what I wished for! Now we’re twins!” The little girl folds herself around Beca’s neck which is when you see discomfort reappear on your friend’s face. Luckily for Beca, the girl is gone just as fast, showing her two brothers and father the tiny set of headphones on her wrist.  
  
“You continue to surprise me.” You whisper to your friend as you grab some popcorn and throw it in the air to catch with your mouth.  
  
“What? Because I was nice to a kid?” Beca speaks slightly offended as she nonchalantly catches the second piece of popcorn you had thrown in the air and claims it as her own. “You think that low of me?”  
  
Beca’s eyes don’t meet yours, which tells you that although her voice sounds sarcastic and uncaring, she’s being serious. Your hand finds its way into your friend’s, but it doesn’t lead to her take her eyes off of the ground. “Of course I don’t.” You force yourself to remember what insecurity looks like on Beca’s face. “It just reminds me there’s so much I don’t know about you, yet.” You speak with your usual pitched and happy voice, knowing Beca doesn’t need softness or pity.  
  
Beca’s eyes finally meet yours and you watch them roll. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”  
  
“Why would you think that?” You speak, faking being insulted.  
  
“Am I gonna come home one day and find our room filled with toddlers? Because I can’t stand for myself then, Beale.”  
  
You just laugh and rest your head on Beca’s shoulder while you return your focus to the movie that’s playing. Her hand in yours feels warm and well-known, scarily familiar even.  
  
After the Thanksgiving film has ended, some relatives leave to go home and others that stay for the night disappear to the guestrooms. The rest stays for another round of coffee and tea and your dad switches the channel to a talk show. Beca goes to sit next to your brother when she notices he’s talking to your nephew about music.  
  
You squeeze yourself between your sisters who are spread out on the loveseat, Sarah with her phone glued to her hand while Lucy sleepily leans against your body.  
  
“When did this obsession with your phone start?”  
  
“Since she has a boyfriend.” Lucy says teasingly.  
  
“I don’t.” Sarah mumbles while her fingers continue to type away.  
  
“You have a boyfriend and you didn’t tell me?” You speak insulted as you place your hand over the girl’s screen. “What’s his name? Is he cute?” You’re unable to hide the joy from your face.  
  
“I’m not dating Noah.”  
  
“Oh, it’s a Noah.” You say before making kissing sounds with Lucy to annoy your slightly older sister. Sarah, in return, takes one of the pillows from behind her back to repeatedly hit both of you in the face, only to stop when her phone makes a sound. “Oh my God, you’re totally into him.” You say with a giggle, pleased by the scene and your sister’s blushed cheeks.  
  
“Maybe.” She says after a few seconds of silence, to which the three of you all break out in laughter.  
  
“Why didn’t you just invite him instead of texting him all day?” Lucy asks while passing a bowl of salted chips.  
  
“He couldn’t come.” Sarah replies with a sigh, putting her phone down and turning her gaze to you with a devilish smile. “Not _everyone’s_ crush could make it, so it seems.” She says with playful judgement in her voice.  
  
“What?” You say mocking her words, yet unable to elaborate on the topic.  
  
“What!” Lucy jumps from a lied down position to fully straightened and focused on your face. When she sees you’re not going to falter, her eyes turn to Sarah’s. “Beca?” She asks doubtful.  
  
You hear Sarah hum in agreement and you roll your eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You speak calm while stuffing your mouth with chips.  
  
“Don’t act like I don’t know that look in your eyes, Chlo.” Sarah says with one finger pointed at you, which you ignore, causing her to poke your face repeatedly.  
  
Your jaw drops to scoff, but snaps shut shortly after when you find you don’t really have a comeback for that.  
  
“Really? Beca?” Lucy speaks, this time with less doubts and more understanding. “How did I miss that?” She says under her breath, more to herself than to you as she takes the bowl of chips from your hands and continues to watch whatever’s on the TV.  
  
“Nothing to miss. Beca and I are just friends.” Your eyes unconsciously move to where your friend is seated next to your brother, her eyes meet yours on instant, even from across the room, a small smile tugging at her lips before returning to her conversation. “Besides, this wasn’t about me.” You say when you find your sister’s eyes again.  
  
“Deflecting, Chlo? Well, if I wasn’t sure before..” Sarah throws you a wink before getting back to text messaging.  
  
You never thought there’d be a day where you would feel anything negative towards your close bond with your sisters, but the fact that she can read you so easily is slightly terrifying to say the least. Not because you hadn’t realized it yet, because you have. You’ve come to terms with the fact that you like Beca more than just a friend. You know you _like_ her.  
  
But you wanted Beca to be the first person who could see it in your eyes, not Sarah. You wish Beca would notice your feelings without having to pronounce them. Not that you couldn’t put them to words. Telling Beca you like her isn’t the difficult part of this. It’s making sure she doesn’t freak out or feel uncomfortable in your presence.  
  
Somehow, you think it would be easier if she could just see it in your eyes and there were no words needed.  
  
“I didn’t catch her as your type, Chlo.”  
  
“Luce! I thought it was us against Sarah!”  
  
“That was until I found out you have a crush on your awkward yet weirdly intimidating best friend.” Lucy says with a simple shrug. “But I guess you’re into the whole _‘don’t-touch-me-or-I’ll-fight-you’_ look now.”  
  
“Yeah, didn’t you once break up with a guy because he knocked into someone and didn’t apologize?” Sarah pitches in.  
  
“Okay, I was planning to break up with him before that.” You say defensively. “And Beca is not like that.”  
  
“Of course she’s not.” Lucy says impassive.  
  
“She’s _different!_ ” Both of your sisters yell out and break into laughter afterwards.  
  
You allow the girls a few more minutes of mockery and laughter before getting up and leaving their space. You can take a joke and you don’t mind their words at all, you actually kind of enjoy them, but you know your sisters and you know they will never stop, so you have to leave eventually.  
  
You make your way over to where Beca is seated and you lean into her to whisper into her ear. “I’m going to bed.” Your hand falls on your friend’s shoulder in the process and you reluctantly have to remove it if you plan to stay true to your words.  
  
“Yeah, hold on, Beale.” Beca says, her hand catches your wrist before you’re able to walk away. “All I’m saying is that while you can have songs without either of those, a bassline is the most significant part of music.”  
  
You watch your brother and friend bicker for a little bit, the conversation going back and forth, sentences washing over each other, but voices remain low and respectful. Both seem eager to get their point across and convince the other of what they believe is right. You end up pulling Beca after you by her hand and she doesn’t stop talking until you’ve covered most of the stairs.  
  
“-This isn’t over yet, John!” She yells down to where your brother waves his hand at her as though he claims his victory.  
  
“What was that about?” You giggle as you continue to drag the smaller girl after you.  
  
“John thinks the guitarist is more important than a bass player.” Beca scoffs as she follows you down the halls.  
  
“Well isn’t it?” You contemplate out loud.  
  
“No.” Beca sighs annoyed. “If you take the bassline out of a song, it-“  
  
You end Beca’s sentence there by slamming her body against the wall on her side and you kiss her fiercely. Her lips parted from being mid-sentence give you great access to run your tongue over her bottom lip and lick into her mouth.  
  
Beca catches up to you after a few seconds and her hands pull you into her by the hips, causing her to let out a satisfied sigh that falls into your mouth and drops down low in your gut, swirling and spinning through your stomach and chest.  
  
Your hands slip underneath Beca’s shirt, eager to feel her skin on your fingertips. You feel her muscles tense immediately at the touch underneath the soft layer of her stomach. You softly scratch your nails over her abdomen, trying to succeed in stilling the desire burning inside of you.  
  
But it doesn’t still.  
  
The desire grows with every inch of Beca your hands discover.  
  
Beca pulls away from your lips to rest her head against the wall. Her eyes are filled with lust and darkened at least three shades, and her lips are slightly swollen and red. The sight is urging your hands to move up until you can feel the girl’s ribs underneath your fingers.  
  
You can feel Beca’s lungs working faster and faster while your eyes stay on the girl’s face to watch how fast she’s breathing. Her pupils are still dilated and fixated on yours, while her body willingly leans into your touch, her back arching off the wall to allow you better access.  
  
You move your hands further up the girl’s body until your fingers reach her bra. Your hands then trade in skin for fabric that’s covering her boobs and you watch Beca’s eyes shut in pleasure and her jaw drops a little to allow her lungs to fill with air as she deeply inhales.  
  
“Chloe, dear, I think I’ve forgotten where the bathroom is.”  
  
You don’t think you would have moved away from Beca just because your grandmother appeared at the end of the hallway, but your friend pushed you at least three feet away when the words echoed off the walls.  
  
“It’s the second door on the left, grandma.” You giggle as you close the distance and turn your grandmother around. “That way.”  
  
“I’m getting old, sweetie. Don’t tell your father about this.”  
  
You simply laugh as you watch your grandma slowly walking towards the bathroom. When you turn back to your friend, you’re pleased to see Beca hasn’t moved. Her hands are running through her hair while the blush on her cheeks are still faintly noticeable.  
  
“Where were we?” You flirt when you’re back within her reach, your hands instantly reaching out to her sides, pushing her back against the wall. Your mouth connects to your crush’s neck in one move, placing your lips at her pulse point and letting your teeth scrape over her skin.  
  
“Beale, stop it.” Beca breathes out totally unbelievable.  
  
“But you’re so irresistible.” You say overly flirtatious as your mouth leaves your friend’s neck to kiss her lips again.  
  
Beca kisses you back, to your surprise, and her hands even make contact with your chest, but when you swirl your tongue over her bottom lip, Beca pulls back and keeps her hands on your shirt to prevent you from moving back in. She stares at you for a few seconds before releasing you and continuing the path towards your room.  
  
“Good call. We should pick this up in our room.” You say happily as you skip after Beca.  
  
“I swear to God, I will sleep on the fucking ground, Beale.” Beca says grumpy as she opens the door to the guest room and grabs her bags only to drop them the second after she’s entered your room.  
  
“Why would that stop me?” You say with a wink as Beca just glares at you.  
  
“I will sleep in the nearest tub.” Beca threatens as if she’ll leave if you come any closer.  
  
You simply shrug at her words and don’t make another move towards your friend. Instead, you start to take off clothing items until only your underwear is left, never breaking eye contact with the woman in your room.  
  
Beca’s eyes seem to be glued to your chest from across the room, making you feel even more confident than you already were. It takes a few more seconds until Beca realizes you have noticed her staring and she quickly snaps her eyes to anywhere else in the room as she awkwardly starts coughing, knowing she’s been caught redhandedly.  
  
“I don’t think you will, Becs.” You speak as you open the door in your room to your private bathroom. “I don’t think you want to leave this room.”  
  
“Of course you have a personal bathroom.” Beca speaks unsurprised as she follows a few seconds after you with her toothbrush in one hand. She does her very best to avoid looking at you through the mirror, making you smile slightly.  
  
You’re the first to exit the bathroom after removing the makeup from your face and your fully clothed friend once again follows you out. “Are you going to sleep like that?”  
  
“I will if you are gonna sleep like that.” Beca’s eyes once again roam your body, however shortly.  
  
“I don’t sleep in my underwear, Becs!” You yelp out. “I sleep naked.”  
  
Beca gulps and her eyes widen in size before she jumps over towards you and stops you just in time from unclasping your bra. “Why are you torturing me?” She asks seemingly genuine.  
  
“Because it’s fun.” You giggle as you take the pajamas from your drawer and put them on. “Aren’t you gonna undress? I promise I won’t look.” You tell Beca when you’re all settled into the bed and your entire body apart from your head is warm and under the sheets.  
  
Beca however has made no attempt to change so far, let alone to get into the bed. Your words cause her to roll her eyes and she quickly kicks her pants off and at the same time pulls the shirt over her head. With her back towards you, she goes through her bag to find something to sleep in. “Liar.” She spits out before throwing a quick look over her shoulder to find you staring at her unabashed.  
  
Beca eventually rolls into the bed with you, taking most of the covers from you instantly and she keeps herself at an appropriate distance from your body.  
  
You turn on your side to face the woman in your bed. It’s cute how innocent Beca looks in your childhood bedroom, even with her grumpy scowl on her face. It’s almost hypnotizing.  
  
“You’re staring. Again.” Beca complains with her eyes trained in front of her, not daring to look at you when you’re this close, probably.  
  
“What are you gonna do about it, Becs?” You let your lips brush over the girl’s cheeks.  
  
Beca turns her head then, but only to send you a scolding look. “I don’t know why this is a turn on for you, but we’re not having sex in your parents’ house.”  
  
Your foot has made its way under Beca’s blanket during her preach, and it’s fun to watch her face turn back to its annoyed look when she feels the contact. “It’s not a turn on for me. I want to have sex with you everywhere.” You say as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, which it is for you. Her turned face is now easy to reach, so you quickly lock your lips on your friend’s and kiss her until she pulls back.  
  
“Why do you hate me so much?” Beca almost pleads as she connects her lips back to yours one final time before she moves back.  
  
“I don’t hate you, Becs.” Your hand moves fast to catch Beca from falling out of the small bed, gripping the sheets in which she’s covered, yet feeling her body warm underneath it. “I love you.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "It’s not the first time someone has walked away from something beautiful." -B. E. Barnes
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! First of all, I should probably apologize for that cliffhanger, although I'll admit it was pretty fun watching you guys scream at me haha. I didn't really plan that chapter ending, I actually had another one in mind, but it happened whilst writing and I figured I'd go down that road because why not? It's been a while since there's been some angst haha ;p
> 
> Also, I wouldn't have put you guys through that cliffhanger if I wasn't sure I was gonna update soon, so don't say I don't look out for you guys!

You don’t get many hours of sleep again that night.  
  
Thanksgiving with the Beales wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Her family is as close to perfection as they come, you reckon. You don’t think you’ve heard anything but happiness and laughter during the course of the entire day.  
  
You didn’t talk to everybody, nor were you planning to. But you got to meet some of Chloe’s uncles and aunts, and you had a quick chat with her grandparents, who were surprisingly respectful of your looks, the elderly man even complimented the spikes in your ears.  
  
Now, you have an okay relationship with your grandparents, nothing special. But they can be rather straight-forward and they’re not afraid to tell you to your face that they don’t agree with your tattoos or any life choices you’ve made. You don’t really care what they think, obviously. They are old and come from a different generation. They’re also homophobic assholes, so who gives a shit what they think?  
  
But it’s interesting to you that even Chloe’s grandparents are nice and understanding people. That, even though they come from a different generation, they can adapt and adjust and be respectful of the new generation.  
  
The family continues to surprise you.  
  
You probably spent most of Thanksgiving with John. He’s hilarious and sarcastic at times, but he can also speak with such passion about things that interest him. Of course, that had led to a few bumps in the road regarding the music area, because he stayed to his wrong opinions even after you told him the right ones.  
  
_Guitarists more important than a good bass line, yeah right.  
_  
Looking back at the evening, you should have just stayed in that conversation with John and hopefully change his wrong view of that topic, because it all kind of went downhill after Chloe dragged you out of the living room.  
  
You’ve never been _‘walked into’_ like so many proudly talk about in high school, but you’re pretty sure that’s what happens right after Chloe pins you to the wall and her grandmother breaks up the moment. You can only hope those glasses didn’t do their intended job for a few critical seconds, if not for your sake, then for the woman’s poor soul.  
  
No one above the age of seventy should be involuntarily exposed to a girl-on-girl groping session.  
  
If that wasn’t bad enough, you were forced to share a bed with your friend for the night. It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night in a single bed with Chloe Beale, yet this is the first time it’s a rational decision and you’re not stuck underneath her body and unable to flee.  
  
You kind of figured something bad would happen in that situation that would lead to a sleepless night, but nothing could prepare you for those words exiting your friend’s mouth. You honestly just thought Chloe would flirt with you and continue to make out with you and you’d eventually give in and she’d have won, which would be way more fun than watching the clock tick the seconds away in the cold room with your friend sleeping next to you.  
  
_‘I love you.’  
_  
How long has it been since anyone said those words to you? You can’t remember.  
  
You know your mom used to say it a lot. Your dad did too, back in the day, on certain occasions like birthdays, but that stopped a long time ago. You think the only female friend you had in high school had said it a few times, but you don’t think they were meant, which is probably why you can’t seem to remember or really care for them.  
  
_“I’m going to sleep.”_  
  
_“Becs.”_ Chloe had sighed. _“Don’t freak out.”_  
  
_“I’m not!”_ You had said insulted, as if those words could freak you out and cause you to stay up all night and think about everything that has ever happened.. _“You love everything. Your family, your friends, you love art and music and dancing, people you’ve just met. Hell, I’ve heard you say those words to a set of curtains. And, oh, you said you loved the energy radiating off of the people in my club. You love everything, it’s no big deal.”_  
  
_“I’m pretty sure that’s the most words you, or any human being, has ever said in one breath.”_  
  
Okay, so you were totally freaking out and you let yourself rationalize it before thinking about it, but you weren’t wrong. Chloe loves everything. It makes sense she loves you, too.  
  
Hearing it, though, is a whole other thing than rationally knowing it. Hearing it was like someone cut you open and you were forced to watch your intestines fall to the ground; bloody fucking painful. You felt sick. You still feel sick, at least six hours after those words echoed through the room.  
  
And you know it’s stupid. Those words shouldn’t make you feel that way. They’re positive words, right? Chloe loves you as a friend. That’s a good thing. Rationally, you know that. But you’ve never been one to react rationally.  
  
So you turned your back on your friend, literally, and pretended to be asleep until you heard the woman next to you drifting off, leaving you to wonder why she would even voice those words. Surely she didn’t think you would say it back, you think.  
  
You wonder if you should have. You wonder if it would be a lie.  
  
Deciding you can’t handle those thoughts, you slip out of the bed and quietly make your way out of the room. This time when you make it downstairs, there’s no one else except for the sleeping Labrador.  
  
You curl yourself into a ball on the couch and you pass out almost immediately, the heavy and thick air in your friend’s room no longer around to suffocate you.

* * *

  
“And here I thought you’d be used to Chloe’s snoring by now.”  
  
It’s not the words that awake you, but the body that has landed on your legs snap you back to life. When your eyes find a young, cheerful boy eating a bowl of cornflakes while not even caring he’s placed on you, it’s just your instincts to kick him in the side.  
  
“Ah!” He yelps out while moving off and away from you. “That bad huh?”  
  
You ignore John for the sake of finding another set of eyes that you can sense is following your every move. You find Chloe sitting on a sofa across the room, her legs folded underneath her body with a similar bowl of cornflakes in her hands. Her hair is up in a messy bun and she’s wearing the same clothes she had jumped into before going to bed last night. You hadn’t noticed then, but you can see little pandas on her pajama bottoms and the whole look is making her seem rather childish.  
  
Cute, almost.  
  
You sit up straight and fold the blanket you took from the couch before giving your friend an apologetic smile and heading out of the living room.  
  
You haven’t had nearly enough sleep to put your thoughts in line and face your friend for probably another stupid conversation where you have to convince her you’re actually fine.  
  
When there’s no set of footsteps following you up the stairs, you wonder if today is the day you’re gonna fuck everything up.

* * *

  
After your shower, the entire ground floor is filled with people, some saying their goodbyes, others finishing up on breakfast. You unconsciously search for Chloe in the crowd and you find her hugging one of her aunts goodbye.  
  
You turn to the kitchen without anyone noticing you and quickly make yourself a sandwich. Getting through the day without sleep is one thing, you will just have to eat to stay awake.  
  
“Starting to think you only came here for the food.” John says with a judging grin on his face as he watches you eat. “Anyway, there’s this party tonight. Luce asked me to invite you along.”  
  
You’re not a big fan of parties where you would know exactly two people, but somehow the idea of staying trapped in this house with Chloe today doesn’t seem so appealing. You still don’t know how to get rid of the awkwardness that’s now hanging between the two of you. You wish she would just come up to you and be her usual, flirtatious self so you could roll your eyes at her and everything would be back to normal.  
  
But she hasn’t done that yet. Maybe things aren’t normal anymore.  
  
“Cool. I’ll come with.” You say before you can ponder too much about it.  
  
“Awesome! Chloe didn’t think you’d want to.” John says with a mocking scoff. “How wrong was she?” He says laughing as he heads out of the kitchen.  
  
“So wrong.” You mumble with a fallen face. You finish your sandwich quickly, feeling rather annoyed with this day already.  
  
“John tells me you said yes, but your face tells me you said no.”  
  
Chloe’s voice dances through the kitchen and with that the words she said last night are back into your head. “What? Oh, the.. Yeah.” You finish with a shrug that would somehow explain it all.  
  
“You actually want to go to my niece’s wedding celebration?”  
  
“Wedding?” Of course John left out the important parts of this deal.  
  
“Well, she got married in Vegas a month ago, but she’s celebrating it now for the family. Didn’t John tell you?”  
  
“Oh, no, of course he did. He told me.” You’re not sure why you’re defending the boy, but you reckon it’s easier than telling your friend you only agreed to go, so you wouldn’t be around her for a bit. “I think it will be fun.” You lie.  
  
Chloe inches closer and her face is searching yours, her eyes darting around in quest of any abnormalities. “Fun?” She copies with her voice full of doubts. You nod quickly and she continues to search your face for a few more seconds before inhaling deeply and a great smile covering her face. “Alright, awesome!”  
  
You can’t help but smile back, proud that your poker face has worked.  
  
“So, of course, John also told you there’s a formal dress code, right?”  
  
You let your face fall again, but you recover quickly. “Of course.” You yell out like it’s obvious, making Chloe’s eyebrow raise at the highness of your voice. “I mean, of course.” You say again, this time cautious and quiet, trying to make your voice sound sincere. “If you would excuse me-“ You say as you pass your friend and head into the living room.  
  
“-I have to go kill someone.” You groan in search of the boy.

* * *

  
After having a little talk with John, you take the dog for a walk around the park. When you return, you’re feeling a bit better after having some time to yourself to think and relax. That relaxing feeling quickly evaporates when three little kids hang around your legs as soon as you walk into the living room. Emily and her two brothers, you believe.  
  
The kids explain they can’t touch the ground for some sort of game and they plead you to walk them over towards the other side of the room, so you pick one of the boys up and struggle to get your feet off the floor with a kid clinging to each leg, but they’re screaming it out from laughter, so you don’t think they mind if you go slow.  
  
While crossing the room with toddlers attached to your body, you find Chloe in the living room with her sisters, spread out on the couch with a movie playing and John in front of that couch on the floor. You make eye contact with your friend who seems overcome with joy at the sight of you struggling to carry all three kids around.  
  
“Hey, these are heavy, okay!” You tell your friend who only seems to have more trouble keeping her breathing in control from all the laughing. “Pretty sure this one ate the entire turkey yesterday.” You say to Emily who yells out that she didn’t. “And this one here has bricks in his pockets, don’t you?” Emily’s brother Dylan continues to shake his head while a soft smile spreads over his face, looking at you with trust and softness. He kind of looks like he’s made of glass, vulnerable and fragile, as if he’ll break if you drop him. You contemplate putting a sticker on his forehead that says ‘careful, approach with caution’, just in case you forget this look in his eyes later.  
  
“You have bricks in your pockets?!” Chloe takes the small boy from your leg and she starts to shake him lightly, causing Dylan to fill the room with the kind of contagious laughter where you have no choice but to laugh along.  
  
The other brother that’s in your arms reaches for Chloe and you happily hand him over, so you can carry the little girl without weights on your legs.  
  
Seeing Chloe with the normal stars in her eyes as she tickles both of the boys warms the inside of your chest. You think about apologizing for this morning, but that’s always been hard for you to do. Even though Chloe and you aren’t exactly talking to each other, you’re talking through the kids and it feels normal again.  
  
You and your friend both walk towards the end of the room and the kids jump out of your arms and quickly disappear into the adjacent room, their tiny feet hitting the wooden floor fast and loud.  
  
You sigh dramatically. “They’re a handful.” You complain, even though you’ve only had them for no more than five minutes.  
  
“They seem to like you.” Chloe says, her eyes not shining the same now that she’s looking at you.  
  
“Why? Because they use me as a workhorse?”  
  
Chloe just laughs, but her hand slides over your arm, caressing the length of it with your eyes closely following the action. You feel your friend’s eyes on your face, but you can’t force yourself to look away. Her hand, warm and familiar on your skin, didn’t cause you to flinch. It’s not so weird when you think about it, because you’ve had Chloe touch your skin for a few months now, yet this time, of all the times, is the first time your natural instincts didn’t kick in.  
  
You can’t help but wonder why this is happening today. You’ve had better days with the girl. Days where you have felt more comfortable in her presence, but even then your muscles responded to her fingers.  
  
You watch Chloe retreat her hand, but your eyes stay on the last place she touched. Now that the warmth is gone, you can only feel annoyed by your body’s impulses and the lack of them in this case. You don’t want to think about any reasons behind that.  
  
“We’re watching Home Alone.” Chloe says inviting.  
  
“Right.” You reply, forcing yourself back to the real world and away from that place in your mind. “You should get back to that.” You know that’s not what the girl meant, but you’re not interested in watching a kid’s film with your friend right now. “I’m not feeling very well, I’m gonna lie down for a bit.” It’s not a lie. You have been feeling sick since your arrival here, which was to blame for your first restless night in this house.  
  
Chloe immediately puts a hand to your forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” She concludes suspicious.  
  
“No, it’s probably nothing. Just my stomach.”  
  
Chloe allows you to leave without her, only after you promised her you’d tell her if it got worse.  
  
Instead of spending any more time of your day thinking about your friend and what she said to you last night and why you didn’t react to her touch, you could use some time to yourself and maybe even some sleep.  
  
You lay down for a few silent minutes, enjoying the peace, until the first disturber knocks on the door.  
  
They don’t wait for you to let them in, instead a head appears through a crack in the door opening.  
  
“Beca, dear. Chloe told me you weren’t feeling well, so I made some soup.”  
  
Chloe’s mother puts the bowl of soup on the nightstand and kisses your forehead before disappearing again.  
  
The action alone makes you feel like a little kid. You wonder if that’s what growing up in this household would have been like. Kisses on the head and soup when you’re not feeling well, Thanksgiving with every member of the family, crying tears of happiness.  
  
It’s like every single thing is opposite of the life you had growing up.  
  
These last few days have really made you think about your family.  
  
Well, your dad.  
  
He’s kind of the only family you have left. You don’t have siblings, or any extended family you see on the regular. Your father is all you have. And you’re all he has, in a way.  
  
Neither of you are perfect. You’ve both made mistakes, some unforgivable, some long forgotten, but he’s still your dad and you’re still his daughter. You can leave pretty much anyone, but you can never break that bond, even if you’d love to on certain days.  
  
You pick up your phone and find three unread text messages from him. You immediately feel bad. He has been trying. Nothing that would ever be good enough to you, but he has tried. You might not have a perfect family, you might not get soup when you’re sick or a kiss on your head, but you get text after text, even when you never reply.  
  
Your dad’s trying, and you think he has been for a while now. It’s time for you to.  
  
You dial his number and take a deep breath before putting the phone to your ear.  
  
“Beca? Are you okay?” Worry and fear come dripping out of the line, the panic reminding you of yourself every time you had heard sirens during the time your mother battled with her disease.  
  
“Dad, I’m fine, relax.”  
  
“Beca, tell me what’s wrong.”  
  
“Dad, nothing’s wrong, I promise!” You try not to get annoyed with him already. “I was just calling to see how your Thanksgiving was.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
The line goes dead silent then. “Dad?”  
  
“Yes, sorry honey. I’m just surprised you’re calling.” His voice sounds soft and cracked. “It’s been a while since you’ve called me.” You hear the emotion in his voice and a soft sniff at the end.  
  
“Oh my God, dad, if you’re crying right now I will hang up.” You threaten, but you feel a lump building in your own throat because of him, something you swallow away quickly.  
  
“I’m not, I’m not.” He lies. “Thanksgiving was fine. It was just me and Sheila.” He speaks with a certain sadness in his voice. “What about you, Beca? You’re not alone, are you?”  
  
You explain that you’re in Kansas to spend the days with Chloe’s family.  
  
“Oh, does that mean that you and Chloe..?”  
  
“What? No! Jesus, dad.” You snap when you realize what the end of his sentence would be if he were to finish it.  
  
“I’m sorry, honey. She seems nice and I don’t know what qualities you look for in a woman, not that I know what you look for in a man, but those are usually quite guessable.”  
  
“Oh my God, can we not talk about that right now, or ever?” You groan, not at all interested to inform your dad about preferences. Talking to Chloe suddenly doesn’t seem that bad anymore.  
  
You spend the next fifteen minutes talking to your dad about small things, nothing of great importance, which is nice. You don’t want to think about how badly you fucked up as a daughter and how badly he fucked up as a father every time you talk to him. It’s nice to just chat with him. It makes you realize you’ve missed him quite a lot.  
  
“Maybe when you’re back, we can grab some lunch. Just you and me, what do you say?”  
  
“Sure, dad. That would be nice.”  
  
You say your goodbyes shortly after and it’s like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders after that phone call. Your stomach is still turning, but you feel a bit better, maybe due to the soup. The tiredness, however, is still there, so you quickly kick off your pants and get under the covers of Chloe’s bed. The pillow smells like the girl’s shampoo and you fall asleep almost instantly.

* * *

  
You wake up an hour and a half later and you join Chloe’s sisters in an intense game of charades. It’s kind of fun and you like that it’s taking your mind off of things. You eat leftovers for dinner with the remaining relatives that are joining the Beales to the family party tonight. You deliberately placed yourself between the people at the back of the table, if only for the sake of not being around Chloe and in that case be free of the pain in her eyes, but she still manages to throw those looks your way from across the room.  
  
It’s not that you don’t want to be near her. This whole day has just asked a lot from you. First you had words said to you that you were not at all prepared or ready for. While dealing with that, you had to accept that apparently your body is so comfortable with your friend, that it decides to no longer flinch. And then there are _the looks_.  
  
Chloe has had _that look_ in her eyes from the moment you woke up and found her on that sofa eating breakfast.  
  
The look that you probably have when you look at Dylan, Emily’s tiny brother, the fragile and easily broken one.  
  
But you’re not a kid. You’re not fragile. You don’t break.  
  
Somehow, Chloe seems to think so. The way she looks at you says enough. Her eyes are filled with fright and caution, fear that you’ll leave her, so much so that the girl hasn’t even attempted to talk to you about what happened last night.  
  
And maybe that’s the scariest part. Not those three words she said. Not that you’re comfortable around her like you’ve never been with anyone else. It’s that look that scares the living shit out of you.  
  
Because no one has ever looked at you like that. No one ever cared if you left, or you didn’t care enough to check if they did, and no one has certainly been afraid of losing you.  
  
And that’s terrifying.  
  
Leaving is programmed into your system. It’s what you do, who you are. It’s what you did this morning, for Christ’s sake. It’s what has been your plan all along. And it’s terrifying that Chloe’s afraid of that, because it means you’re going to let her down no matter what.  
  
So you’re taking this one step at a time, dealing with one issue before the other, and right now, you have chosen to deal with coming to terms with your body no longer reacting to your friend’s touch, because you’ve accepted Chloe loving you some time earlier today. You don’t know exactly when, but the panic you felt when it was just said, washed away somewhere after your shower.  
  
You have accepted that she loves you, because she loves everything. It doesn’t scare you anymore, now that you’ve realized that.  
  
So while you’re dealing with the second item on the list, you think it’s best if you aren’t forced to see item three, _the look_ , the entire time.  
  
Chloe, however, doesn’t seem to agree.  
  
“Beca, can I talk to you for a sec?”  
  
You didn’t mean to turn her down, but you were in conversation with the girl’s uncle and you can’t just get up and go whenever she wants you to.  
  
Although you know that’s the lie you tell yourself, because you could have easily excused yourself. You just didn’t want to. You aren’t ready to talk to her yet. Not in the way she wants you to, anyway.  
  
“Trouble in paradise?” Uncle Jerry says with a poke to your ribs, a loud laughter escaping his lips.  
  
You watch your friend leave the room and you think about going after Chloe, but you’re frozen in your seat and somehow it seems easier to stay where you are.  
  
At least you don’t have to wonder if you fucked things up anymore, because you definitely did.  
  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
  
It was an honest mistake.  
  
You didn’t mean for the words to slip out of your mouth the way they did.  
  
Not that they aren’t true; of course you love Beca. But she’s not the kind of person you can say it to in such a nonchalant way. The fear you immediately spotted in her eyes were proof enough for that.  
  
You don’t know what caused those words to escape you. You certainly didn’t plan to. You hadn’t even realized it until you could hear your bubbly voice bouncing off the walls of your childhood bedroom.  
  
You had hope back then that it was just in your head and you didn’t actually pronounce those words, but the look on Beca’s face was real enough.  
  
You had never seen her like that. The way her eyes froze on yours, how she seemed to stop breathing all together and slowly you could almost see her pull away from you, even though she didn’t move an inch.  
  
It’s been a while since you’ve seen the walls that surrounded her so long ago.  
  
You wanted to say something then. You wanted to have the right words to stop her from leaving, but she was already gone and you knew you couldn’t possibly pull her back in. Not right now, at least.  
  
You decided to just watch her closely then. You saw her starting to blink excessively, her eyes no longer on you but rather on the space between the two of you. “I’m going to sleep.”  
  
You had tried to talk to her, but it was useless. Beca was panicking and there was nothing you could do in that moment to make it better. You figured she’d feel better after a few hours of sleep and you could talk to her then.  
  
You don’t know how you were able to fall asleep so quickly. Even though Beca was not okay, she was in the bed with you and she hadn’t walked away, even when that was probably her instinct to. She was there. Her body not in contact with yours, but you could feel her warmth on the other side of the bed and you could hear her breathing and you _knew_ she was there. Even with your eyes closed, even while you were fast asleep, you knew she was with you.  
  
That probably just made the slap to your face twice as hard when you woke up the next day and she was gone.  
  
Just like you didn’t need proof a few hours before that she was there, you didn’t need to open your eyes to feel she was no longer in the bed with you. You could feel how cold it was, but you let your hand travel to the other side nonetheless, the last piece of hope was gone when you found nothing but sheets.  
  
Tears sting your eyes, but you fight them as best you can.  
  
You rush through the house and down the stairs wondering if this is it. If this is where you lose her. If she can just get up and go in the middle of the night and leave you with nothing.  
  
When you find her curled up on the sofa, a blanket loosely wrapped around her and her head resting on the armrest, you literally let out a sigh of relief.  
  
It doesn’t do much more than that.  
  
You’re glad she didn’t flee the house, but it stings that she chose to sleep on the couch instead of staying with you. It hurts that she looks so peaceful and calm on that old sofa, in the cold living room, alone.  
  
You wonder when she left. If she simply waited until you were asleep. If so, how cruel and sweet at the same time.  
  
“Sweetie, didn’t we teach you it’s rude to stare?”  
  
You snap your eyes away from Beca at your father’s words and you’re glad he doesn’t expect an answer as he’s already halfway up the stairs. You head into the kitchen where you grab a few bowls and fill them with cornflakes, different brands for each of your siblings. You poor the milk in the one belonging to John and Sarah, but you leave your eldest sister’s bowl dry, knowing she likes to sleep in and her breakfast would no longer be cold if you filled it up right now.  
  
Sarah appears just when you’re finished with her meal, as if she was waiting for it. With a quick hug and a kiss to your cheek, she’s out of the kitchen with her bowl in hand.  
  
You leave John’s on the counter and take a seat in the living room where Sarah has turned on the TV with the volume on low.  
  
“You can turn it up. Nothing awakes that one.” You say with a playful finger pointing at your sleeping friend.  
  
Your sister simply nods, but she doesn’t change the volume. “Was she not cool with crashing in your room?” Sarah asks with her mouthful of food and her spoon trying to catch the remaining cornflakes in her bowl.  
  
“I told you she likes her space.” You say with a forced smile, not prepared to tell your sister about what had caused her to escape your room. In contrast to your sister, you can’t get a single bite through your throat.  
  
“You have.” Sarah agrees. “I guess I just didn’t think that would apply to you.” She speaks as she rises to her feet, her hand quickly making contact with your shoulder as she passes you on her way to the kitchen.  
  
“Me neither.” You whisper to the only person left in the room.  
  
You play around with your food for another few minutes until your brother comes barging into the room. “Thanks for breakfast, sis.” He speaks loud and joyful, placing his lips on top of your head before letting himself fall onto the middle of the couch where Beca’s legs are placed. “And here I thought you’d be used to Chloe’s snoring by now.”  
  
It’s mesmerizing to watch Beca awake from her deep slumber. The way her jaw clenches before her eyes are even opened, how she tries to look intimidating when her dark hair is uncombed and jumbled, obviously taking the focus away from her mean scowl.  
  
You can see every soft spot in and behind her dark façade, every beautiful feature that just intensifies when she glares, the structure of her jawline, the way her cheekbones stand out a little more.  
  
She’s beautiful.  
  
Her eyes meet yours and every rough edge she had, disappears and turns into uncertainty. She’s obviously uncomfortable. Apparently it’s unbearable for her to be in the same room with you, because she doesn’t know how fast to get out of there.  
  
You wish you could go back to yesterday and do it over again. You don’t want those words to make your friend feel uneasy or weird. You figured _when_ you’d use those words in conversation with Beca, it wouldn’t be like this. Although she’s right, you do love a lot of things and people, you never thought you’d be telling Beca you love her in the same way you’d yelp out you love the song playing on the radio.  
  
The two are levels away from each other.  
  
And you do love your friend, as a friend. But you never planned to use those words in a friendly manner. You thought there would come a point where you would say it for the first time and it meant something greater than that. And it would hopefully not have the same effect on Beca as it has now.  
  
You feel stupid.  
  
This was easily avoidable and you wish you could take it back just for the sake of things, but you can’t erase it from Beca’s memory, no matter how badly you might want that.  
  
You will never be able to say it for the first time in the way you intended.  
  
“So you still think Beca doesn’t want to come to the party tonight?”  
  
Your brother mentioned your niece’s wedding celebration over text a few weeks ago, but now more than ever do you know your friend doesn’t wanna go to some party. “I’m fairly sure.” You reply mindless, still running your spoon through your breakfast, feeling hunger roaring in you somewhere, but nausea preventing you from eating.

* * *

  
If you had any hope of Beca being okay after morning passes, that disappears quickly when she takes every opportunity to spend time with everyone but you. From taking the dog for an hour long walk to obviously faking a sickness, Beca does whatever she can to avoid you.  
  
You try not to take it personally. You try to think about Beca and how she’s doing what she needs to. You try to be proud of her for communicating with your family and putting herself out there.  
  
But seeing her laughing and goofing around with your siblings feels like the final straw; it bothers you more than you’d thought. She seems okay. She seems better than okay. You want to go over there and shake her around and get mad that she ignores you all day just to play games with your siblings and act fine.  
  
You don’t want her to act fine.  
  
You want her to tell you what she’s thinking and why those three words have upset her so much. You want her to explain why she left at night and why she doesn’t think she can talk to you about it.  
  
The whole thing is just very upsetting, but you decide that if Beca can act like nothing’s wrong, then so can you.  
  
You spend the rest of the afternoon finishing puzzles with your dad, the way you always used to together, at the kitchen table, just you and him.  
  
For a few hours, it’s great and amazing to spend some quality time with your dad. But when dinner comes around and Beca is still ignoring you, taking the seat furthest away from you to crack dumb jokes with Uncle Jerry, something in you snaps and you know you’re going to be the first one to fold.  
  
“Beca, can I talk to you for a sec?”  
  
Your parents are cleaning up and your sisters are already getting ready for the party. Beca’s still in conversation with your uncle, but you can’t think of a better time than right now to do this.  
  
“Now? I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Beca says with a big smile still plastered to her face, probably from the last joke she made.  
  
“Yeah, you’ve been in the middle of something all day.” You make sure your voice sounds nice, but you know that Beca can tell you’re annoyed with her.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Nothing. If you don’t want to talk, we don’t talk. Isn’t that always how it is?” With a tight-lipped smile you turn away and head up the stairs. Thoughts of the conversation you had with the girl two weeks ago replay in your mind, the conversation caused by your date-gone-wrong with Hannah, and how close you came to actually admitting to your crush that you like her. If only she had stayed. If only she gave you something, anything, to work with.  
  
But Beca left and Beca didn’t mention anything about that conversation ever again. You don’t know why you’re surprised this time. You should know better by now.  
  
You spend a few minutes in your room just thinking about your friend, secretly waiting for her to burst in and let everything out of her system, but she doesn’t show up.  
  
Your room stays quiet and you stay alone.  
  
You’ve never been one to wallow or to let negative emotions get the better hand of you, so instead of letting this whole thing with Beca swallow you whole, you shake it off and get changed. It’s a formal party, so you pick one of the nicer dresses you bought when you went shopping with Beca. The red one. She said she liked that one. Technically, she said it didn’t look as awful as the other one, so in Beca Mitchell’s language, that means she likes it.  
  
You head over to your sister’s bathroom and you join them both in front of the mirror to adjust your makeup. It brings back a feeling of nostalgia, the three of you placed in front of your eldest sister’s mirror, talking about parties, boys and girls, and outfits of course.  
  
And for a second there, you forget about Beca. That is, of course, until Sarah brings her up.  
  
“So how did you get the ball of annoyance to come with to the party?”  
  
“The Grump Master.” Lucy speaks in a scarily low voice, her hands up in the air as if she’s announcing the next MMA fighter in a match.  
  
“Queen of Scowls.” Sarah throws back.  
  
“Eye-line monster?” You pitch doubtfully. The girls react positive on the nickname. “That’s not mine. Credits go to Stacie.”  
  
“Oh, I like Stacie. How’s she?”  
  
“You have a total girl crush on her, Luce.”  
  
“I do not!”  
  
“The first time Chloe sent us a picture where she was in, you were freaking out for like an hour." Sarah says while applying lipstick like a professional.  
  
“That’s true, you even texted me saying I should take more pictures with her.” You realize.  
  
“I just appreciate her features.” You sister tells seriously, making the two of you burst out in laughter.  
  
“She’s fine, though. She’s dating Aubrey.”  
  
The girls release numerous sounds of shock and disbelieve for at least a full minute before coming to terms with what you’ve told them. “That’s cold, first she steals your man, then she steals your sexual orientation.”  
  
The meant-to-be playful words hit you low in your gut. You’re lucky you’re seated, because you think you might have collapsed if she said those words while you were on your feet. “She didn’t steal anything. Now, are you gonna help me with my hair?”

* * *

  
When you and your sisters are all dressed up and ready to go, you find Beca at the bottom of the stairs. If she watched movies at all, you would be able to joke about how the moment portraits that moment in a romantic film where the guy watches the girl he asked to prom with walking down the stairs.  
  
“You look great.” You say when you’ve reached your friend, your hands softly running over her exposed arms to admire her. She’s wearing a white blouse, sleeves that appear to have been cut from the shoulders down, making it look more like a fancy tank top. You don’t even have to ask if Beca did that herself. You can easily imagine the girl getting annoyed with the clod and putting a scissor to them.  
  
Her pants are black, as if that surprises you, but it’s a clean one that you put in her bag and that does surprise you. She’s holding a leather jacket in her hands, the finishing touch to her outfit.  
  
“So do you.” She replies, her eyes wide and appreciative as they dance over your body.

* * *

  
The event is located in a small town, only a half an hour away from your parents’ home. At your arrival, it’s hard to miss the event hall. There’s a path from the sidewalk to the entrance of the building made with white roses and candle lights.  
  
The inside of the building is even more beautiful.  
  
The room is huge. There are tables in the back of the room, covered with long white cloths that hit the ground. The chairs have the same look, only they have a big red ribbon around it as well, shaped like a bow tie. The front of the room is obviously a dancefloor, the bar is on one side and on the other is a small chapel made where the newlyweds are standing and greeting the people, accepting congratulations and gifts.  
  
The line leading up to the chapel is quite long, but it goes by rather fast. You probably know half of the people in the room, if not more. Relatives, some you know better than others, but you definitely recognize them by face.  
  
When your family has reached the front of the line, your parents congratulate them first and make some small talk before you’re able to hug your niece and introduce Beca as your friend. After dropping of their gifts at a table behind the couple, you head over to the table where you spot your grandmother seated by herself.  
  
It really comes as no surprise that Beca doesn’t follow you, but it still hurts.  
  
The table fills pretty quickly with uncles and aunts and their kids. When you hear the chair beside you scrape over the floor, you figured it was just another family member.  
  
“I don’t know what you like, so I got you this.” Beca says as she places a glass of white wine in front of you before sitting down in the chair. “I think it’s fair to say this is the fanciest party I’ve ever been to.” Her face is relaxed and even dangerously close to boredom, her eyes stay in front of her as she drinks from her glass, which you think is filled with rum and coke.  
  
“You’ll lose that joy as soon as you hear the music they play on fancy parties, Becs.” You reply with your eyes on your friend, wondering if she’s dodging your face on purpose.  
  
“What? You don’t think I can handle a little Marvin Gaye?” Beca asks offended but you can see the corner of her lips pulling upwards. Her eyes meet yours then. Perfectly dark pupils focused on nothing but you. It’s warming you up, fluttering through your chest as you see her eyebrow raise and you know you’ve been staring. “What?”  
  
“Nothing.” You say quickly, forcing your eyes to look away from the sight.  
  
You’re glad Beca’s at least talking to you again, but it still feels a little weird, like there’s something standing between the two of you. You know you need to talk about what happened earlier, but you can also see how this isn’t the right place to do that.  
  
Beca hadn’t even realized your internal debate, because she seems to be in conversation with one of your cousins that’s seated next to her. You gulp your wine down in one slow movement, wondering how you’ll make it through this night.

* * *

  
After the line of people have mostly disappeared and every table is covering at least a few people, the band starts to play and couples here and there slowly make their way to the dancefloor. You’ve moved tables a few times, each time seeing someone you hadn’t seen in a while and going over to chat, but a few hours into the evening, there’s less and less people at tables to talk to.  
  
You love your family and you love talking to every single one of them, but there’s only one person in this room you want to talk to. Which is funny enough the only person who doesn’t want to talk to you.  
  
“What are you doing here, loner?”  
  
Beca’s words slap you out of the thoughts you were having. You have to blink a few times to see the table you’re seated at is empty. Before you can answer, Beca hands you another glass of wine.  
  
“Wanna dance?” She asks nonchalant. She seems calm, even in a room with hundreds of people that she doesn’t know one thing about. You wonder how, on a day like this, she can be so okay with everything.  
  
You think about asking her. You think about blurring out every thought you’ve had during the course of the day. You just want to make things right again. But then Beca smiles, one of those absentminded smiles where she’s simply looking at you and doesn’t notice her lips curling. You think that maybe you don’t need words to make things right. At least not right now.  
  
“Is that any way to ask a lady?” You speak posh.  
  
“May I please have this dance?” Beca says after an extended roll of her eyes and an annoyed sigh.  
  
You take her reached out hand and you skip towards the dancefloor.  
  
“I’m leading.” Beca says as soon as you’ve come to a stop between the rest of the dancing people.  
  
“I don’t think so, Becs. I’m taller.” You decide as you drape your arms over the girl’s shoulders and start to guide her around.  
  
“You have like half an inch on me, Beale.” Beca speaks as she places her hands on your hips, forcefully pushing you back and taking the lead.  
  
The band starts to play Lady In Red and you catch Beca’s eyes before smiling at her. During the course of the song, your bodies become closer and closer. You’re not sure if you’re doing that or if Beca is, but you don’t really mind.  
  
Halfway through You’re Still The One, your front is slightly pressed against your friend, her hands still on your hips, but sometimes slowly moving over your sides before moving back down again. The new closeness allows you to wrap your arms around Beca’s neck and inch her even closer.  
  
“I’m sorry I freaked out.” Beca whispers, her face next to yours causing her breath to hit your cheek. “I guess, because I never had those kind of friends who tell each other that, I was kind of taken back by it, or something.”  
  
You decide to keep your face forward and your eyes away from your friend, knowing this is already hard enough on her without your stare making it worse. You decide to just listen and not interrupt the girl.  
  
“I shouldn’t have left your room.” Beca finishes after a moment, her voice low and disappointed. “Can we just forget all this and move on?”  
  
You know she doesn’t mean it that way, but it still stings that she would just want to forget you ever said you love her. Even though you’d love to take it back and use them when you’re ready and in the way that you’d want to, you know words can’t be taken back nor be forgotten.  
  
“I understand why you left, Beca. I’m not mad that you need your space. But you’ve been avoiding me all day and now you just want to forget.”  
  
“I haven’t been _avoiding_ you.” Beca downplays as if there’s a better word for what she’s been doing.  
  
“What do you want to call it then? Ignoring me? Fleeing the room every time I enter?” Your face turns to Beca now, your eyes angrier than you feel, but you think that’s a good thing. “You’ve said maybe five words to me all day.”  
  
“You were making it a bigger deal than it was.”  
  
“ ** _I_** was?!”  
  
Somewhere in the middle of the argument, your arms have unwrapped itself from Beca’s neck and your hands have come to rest against Beca’s collarbones. There’s a bigger distance between the two of you, but her hands remain on your hips.  
  
“Yeah, you didn’t exactly talk to me or anything.”  
  
“I tried to talk to you, Becs. Multiple times.”  
  
Beca takes your left hand from her chest and spins you around, her hand lightly holding yours above your head as you follow her instructions, coming to a stop much closer than you were before. The last of her eye roll was visible when your eyes met again.  
  
“Yeah, but you had _that_ look in your eyes.”  
  
“That look?”  
  
“You know what look. Like I will break if you confront me. Or as if I’ll leave you.”  
  
You let your eyes drop from Beca’s face and it’s only then that you notice how high the hand she had on your hip earlier is now placed on your body. With your locked hands, she guides you around and you hadn’t even noticed your free hand was back around your friend’s neck. You hadn’t even realized the two of you were still dancing.  
  
“Can you blame me?” You whisper.  
  
Beca just breathes out heavy as a reply, pushing you away from her and catching both your hands to pull you back in before she spins you around again.  
  
You dance with the girl in silence for a little while, taking note of how good of a dancer she actually is. Then the band starts to play ‘When A Man Loves A Woman’ and Beca meets your eye only to dramatically drop her head against your shoulder.  
  
“Kill me now.” She mumbles, her feet never stop, though, quickly adjusting to the new rhythm.  
  
“Where’d you learn to dance like this anyway?”  
  
“I didn’t.” Beca answers with a hint of confusion while smiling with her lips pressed together. “I’m just doing what the rest of these losers do.”  
  
You laugh at that and for the first time that day, you feel a sense of relief, like the two of you are going to be okay again. “Well, you’re a natural, then.”  
  
“Have you forgotten I’ve survived Bellas practice which consisted of only, and nothing but, The Sign? This is almost a treat.”  
  
“I’m so glad you say that.” You say happy, thinking about all the places you can take Beca dancing. From the looking on your friend’s face, she’s thinking about the same thing, her eyes threatening and warning you.  
  
The scolding face doesn’t scare you one bit. You’ve seen worse faces, especially in the last twenty-four hours. This face you can handle. This face is familiar. This face tells you everything will be okay again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See?! They're gonna be fine!
> 
> I saw a few people suggesting that they don't want the two of them to back out of these feelings, but for me it didn't feel like this moment would be THE moment, hence why I wrote it like this. What I will say, is that this wasn't just some unimportant slip that led to one chapter of angst. It will lead to some changes within their relationship sooner rather than later, so I hope y'all can find yourself with the way I chose to write this!
> 
> Thanks for all the love so far! Come scream and yell at me anytime ;)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "It is not easy. Things that matter are not easy. Feelings of happiness are easy. Happiness is not. Flirting is easy. Love is not. Saying you’re friends is easy. Being friends is not." -David Levithan
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so weird that this day a year ago I posted a little 9k one-shot of a fun idea I had and somehow it has turned into a 170+k multichap with over twenty chapters. This second-person, POV-changing story that somehow got people to continue reading is now part of my every day thought process and it's always in the back of my mind. Just wanted to take this moment to say thanks for sticking by me and joining me on this weird rollercoaster!

“Can you blame me?”  
  
The words hurt in a place you haven’t been hurt a lot in the last couple of years.  
  
It was never your intention to ignore or avoid Chloe. It was just a dumb decision you made a couple of times during the course of the day where you determined it was easier not to be around her in favor of avoiding the conversation you were bound to have if you were to spend more than two seconds in her presence.  
  
Seeing her sitting at an empty table caused you to think about how ridiculous you’ve been behaving all day. Your feet were moving towards your friend before you could even process the decision, but you know it was the right thing to do.  
  
The girl had seemed lost in thoughts, her head in her hands and her eyes showed she was a thousand miles away. It was weird seeing Chloe’s face without her usual happiness and her infectious smile. Realization hits you that perhaps you’re the reason for that.  
  
You went with the only thing you know instantly cheers the girl up and she practically ran towards the dancefloor at your offer.  
  
With your friend’s hands around your neck and her body close, it was like a bubble created itself around the two of you, muting all the other people in the room and even the music became noise in the background. It was hard not to feel safe when it’s just you and Chloe.  
  
The apology became easy to say then, but it was still hard to do. Apart from Chloe’s fingers running over the back of your neck, there was no response from the girl’s side. The silence made you uncomfortable, not knowing what more to say, except getting past this stupid, non-verbal fight.  
  
But she took that the wrong way and the fight became verbal then, also something you’re not very good at. Words always fail you. You either choose the wrong ones or they don’t come at all.  
  
That’s why telling Chloe about that look she’s had in her eyes all day didn’t go the way you wanted it to. You wanted to tell her that you couldn’t handle that. The fact that someone would be afraid of you leaving them, that Chloe is afraid of you leaving her, scared you to the core. It scares you more than anything else in this world. But somehow the look in her eyes made you want to try. It didn’t make you want to pack your shit and go.  
  
It made you want to stay with her.  
  
Then the girl reminded you with a simple yet hurtful question that you never stay anywhere. She has every right to look at you in that way, because you know it, and she knows it; you always leave.  
  
You don’t know why this time would be different, but it felt like it could be. Even though, technically, you did leave her this morning, you also had stayed. You didn’t mean to leave, you just wanted a few hours of sleep. If you were going to leave, you’d have been a few states away before she even woke up.  
  
In your own way, you had stayed.  
  
In the house, in her presence.  
  
And you were trying, in a way that apparently only you noticed, because it was too small an offer for your friend to see as well.  
  
But you think that’s okay. It’s a good thing she’s aware that you can leave any time, any day, because the truth is, it will probably happen. One way or the other, you’ll leave her one day and you’re not going to convince her today that she should trust you to stay, just because you have this feeling low in your gut right now that you won’t.  
  
Because chances are high that you will.  
  
Instead of telling the girl anything at all, you continue to dance with her. When the band reenacts the stupid Michael Bolton song, you can roll your eyes and she can laugh and it feels like things are going back to normal again.  
  
“I talked to my dad today.” You admit, feeling like the girl will appreciate you talking to her after almost a full day of doing the opposite of that.  
  
“You did?” Her eyes snap up to yours, her cheek hitting your nose in the process and you hadn’t realized how close you were until then.  
  
“Yeah, I called him.” You say nonchalant, your eyes darting through the room to hide the truth.  
  
“I’m proud of you.” She tells you, her fingers scratching lightly over the back of your neck, creating goosebumps while her eyes never leave you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy.”  
  
“It was just a conversation, not higher math. Or any math.” You downplay.  
  
Chloe laughs at that, her head falling a little, causing her hair to lightly brush against your face. When she looks up, her eyes meet yours for a short moment before she goes back to her previous position, her face beside yours as her feet continue to dance. “What did you guys talk about?”  
  
You give her a few topics you’ve discussed with your father, and the girl listens, no matter how boring they all are. You’re all too happy to tell her how much of a baby your dad is for breaking into tears.  
  
Chloe however can’t laugh about that. She just puts her hand over her heart and looks at you with her bottom lip sticking out. “That is **_so_** sad.” She says, the words causing her eyes to water a little.  
  
“Oh my God.” You roll your eyes but keep the girl close. “Don’t you fucking start, too.”  
  
“Becs!” She yelps out, increasing the distance between you as her hands push you away, yet keep a grip on your shirt. “How can you not think that’s sad?”  
  
You just shrug casually as you take the girl’s hand back in yours and step closer to her, not so much enjoying the music, but definitely enjoying the dancing with your friend.  
  
You’ve always enjoyed the way Chloe dances, whether you’re lucky enough to witness it from across a room or to physically feel her body moving against your skin. There’s just something about it that fuels you and makes you feel alive.  
  
However, after an hour or so on the dancefloor, your feet start to hurt and your legs scream at you to take a break.  
  
You guide your friend and yourself towards the bar where you quickly jump on a bar stool to take the weight off of your hurting feet. You order a drink and Chloe follows. She talks to you about relatives in this room and some stories about them. Her hand falls onto your thigh while she’s excitedly talking, and again your body doesn’t react.  
  
It just stays calm and warms the spot she’s touching.  
  
You don’t know why, but you have a more secure feeling now when she touches you. As if it’s just you and her in the room and nothing can hurt you as long as she’s in contact with you.  
  
You order another round of drinks and you can tell the alcohol starts to hit your friend, because she’s even more giggly than normal. You guess the amount of wine and served champagne in her system has finally reached a level above what she can take.  
  
“You wanna get out of here?” You pitch.  
  
“And go where?” Chloe laughs, but takes your hand nonetheless, following you towards the exit.  
  
“Trust me.” You say mysterious, as if you have any plan of where to go. You just wanna get out of here for a little while.  
  
You hadn’t realized how warm it was inside the building until the cold wind hits you in the face as soon as you make it out of there. The cloud of smoke from the people standing near the entrance to damage their lungs with their cigarettes follow you for a few feet until you’re on the pavement and away from the building.  
  
The area is quite nice, a few blocks of houses on either side, but enough roads and streets to make it feel more open than it is.  
  
“My feet hurt.” Chloe complains after a while, her pace slowing down to the point where you’re almost no longer able to hold her hand. “Where are you taking me?”  
  
“I just wanted to go for a walk.” You explain. The cold but fresh air is relaxing and it’s easier to breathe out here when it’s just you and Chloe.  
  
Chloe doesn’t seem to agree, because the words pull her body to a stop and her hand firm in yours causes you to get pulled back and come to a halt as well. “We’re just walking?” She asks saddened. She blinks and her eyes are unable to focus for the next few seconds, leaving you to think she’s more tipsy than you thought. “I don’t wanna walk!” Chloe says as she rebelliously takes a seat on the hard, concrete wall separating the pavement from someone’s front yard. “I thought we were going somewhere fun, like a park.”  
  
“Well I don’t know if there are any around, Beale. I don’t live here.” You don’t hide the wit from your voice, but you make sure she sees your smile to make up for it. The girl just continues to pout as her feet tap the floor in a rhythm. “We’re gonna freeze if we don’t keep moving.” You state borderline annoyed as you step closer to the girl, your knees touching hers as the low temperature and cold wind starts to numb your fingers.  
  
“Would you take me to a park if you knew where to find one?” She asks hopeful as she looks up through her dark lashes and meets your eye.  
  
The beautiful sight makes it hard to be sarcastic. “Of course I would.” You say honestly, knowing you’d take the girl anywhere she would want to go.  
  
The girl happily jumps up then, squeezing your cold hands in the process. “But my feet really hurt.” She says with a sudden pout before she kicks her heels off and picks them up, her smile large and bright again, giving you a whiplash with all her different faces.  
  
“You can’t walk barefoot, Beale.” You say just as you spot a broken bottle on the sidewalk and you have to pull her away to prevent her from walking right through it. “I’ve seen you walking on heels for days in a row, please just put your shoes back on.” You all but plead.  
  
“But these are new, Becs! They still hurt.” Chloe yelps out as she swings her hands that are holding the heels around and through the air, happily skipping out in front of you.  
  
You have to take a few quick steps to be able to stop the girl, You place her on the nearest brick wall and with your hands on the girl’s hips, you get her to sit down. “When did you get so drunk?” You mutter as you swipe Chloe’s feet clean on your jeans and remove your own shoes by using the heel of one feet before coping the action with the other.  
  
You kneel down in front of the now giggling girl and place your own sneakers on your friend’s feet before jerking her pair of shoes from her hands and stepping into the ridiculously high heels.  
  
“If you tell anyone about this, I will make sure those are your last words.” You threaten before pulling the girl up and she pretty much falls into your arms.  
  
“I promise. I won’t tell anyone how beautiful you look in heels.” Chloe says before throwing you a wink.  
  
You just glare at her in anger, knowing damn well she’s going to tell every member of the Bellas as soon as you get back. You continue the path back towards the party’s location with Chloe next to you, looking a little silly but nonetheless gorgeous with sneakers underneath her pretty, red dress.  
  
You, on the other hand, look awful with these metallic silver colored heels underneath your black and white outfit.  
  
Not only that, but you’re not even used to walking around in heels, let alone high ones like these. Chloe laughs at you every time you trip or whenever she has to wait up for you.  
  
_You have never hated her more.  
_

* * *

  
By the time you get back to the party, it’s close to midnight and the band has picked up the speed of the music, playing more upbeat and fast songs in contrast to the slow shit you were dancing to earlier.  
  
Chloe had jumped onto the dancing floor almost immediately at your arrival, but you had no interest in dancing with these lame shoes on. So you get to watch her dance with her sisters and cousins from the bar, rolling your eyes every time she winks at you from across the room.  
  
You keep your eyes on the people on the dancefloor and particularly the people in the area of your friend, knowing she can handle herself, but feeling nonetheless protective of her. Although the only real danger you spot in this room is the waiter that carries a plate full of champagne glasses and heads straight towards where your friend is hanging around her sister’s neck.  
  
She doesn’t take a glass and now that you’re paying attention to it, your friend seems much more sober than during your walk. You wonder if she played you to get you out of those comfortable pair of sneakers and put you in heels. You grin your teeth at the thought of that.  
  
A set of hands pulling at your leg snap your eyes away from the dancefloor.  
  
It’s Emily and her little brother, Dylan.  
  
“Hey, what are you two still doing up?”  
  
Dylan doesn’t say anything, instead he keeps his smile bright and his eyes soft as he watches you, his hands still wrapped around your leg.  
  
“We just woke up from a nap.” Emily says happily. “Now we want to dance.” She says as she pulls at your hand.  
  
The little girl has little to no strength, so it’s easy to stay in your place. “Well, the dancefloor is over there, kid.” You say with a finger pointing at the space behind them.  
  
“We wanna dance with you!” She yells out as if it’s obvious before breaking out in laughter and trying to pull you to your feet, using both her hands to cling at you and her feet moving over the floor as if she could possibly succeed in her mission. “Come on, Dyl.” Emily begs her brother for help as she keeps trying.  
  
Dylan, however, doesn’t move. He keeps his eyes trained at you, his ever growing smile never falling or hurting his cheeks, so it seems, and he simply nods as if that would convince you.  
  
Whatever. Maybe it does.  
  
You give the young kid your other hand and dramatically act like the two children are pulling you out of your seat. You act like you’re resisting the entire way over to the dancefloor and the pair of kids are laughing so loud, they almost trump the band’s noise.  
  
The kids drag you towards where Chloe’s dancing and her eyes grow in excitement when they meet yours. You make a show out of rolling your eyes and shrugging your shoulders, but you don’t think they do anything. Not anymore.  
  
The little boy and girl each keep one of your hands in their possession as they start to jump up and down, making it a competition to see who can dislocate your shoulder the fastest, you start to believe at the way they’re pulling at your limbs.  
  
Chloe joins the three of you soon enough and instead of rescuing you from these little devils, she just starts to jump along and Emily seems to be having the time of her life.  
  
The little girl quickly trades your single hand for the pair of Chloe’s and it feels more numb now that the pressure is gone. The two girls start to swing their hands around while jumping and dancing, your friend occasionally lifting the little girl off of her feet to which she screams it out from laughter.  
  
You pick Dylan up and rest him on one arm while moving to the music, using your free hand to occasionally tip his body and throw his head back, to which the little boy laughs his lungs out. The infectious sound of his laughter reaches deep inside of you and pulls at something in your chest. The laughter you let out hasn’t come this easy in a long time.  
  
You watch Emily chatting away and you’re lucky the kid you’re dancing with is mostly quiet, because you don’t really know what to talk about with a child of his age.  
  
Chloe and her little dancing partner seem to attract other kids and before you can even register what’s happening, there’s a group of people, mostly slightly older kids, teenagers perhaps, surrounding the two of them and your friend turns it into a group dance session.  
  
Instead of joining them, which doesn’t seem appealing at all and you have no idea why all the other people feel drawn to it, you focus on the task in hand, quite literally. Which means making the boy in your arms laugh as much as you can. You’re not a psychopath, but you kind of want to see how much laughter the boy can take before his cheeks start to hurt and he physically can’t take it anymore. You want to see how much the little boy’s lungs can take.  
  
You have always liked to push people to the edge, watch what happens when they get there. But the boy is a tough case and he continues to laugh for minutes in a row, never once giving you any sign of hurting muscles in his face or stomach.  
  
_You’re starting to wonder if your theory of the Beales being clones might actually be true.  
_  
But just because the boy doesn’t surrender, doesn’t mean you do, so you continue to silly dance to the music and you pull your face into goofy faces just because the kid seems to love that.  
  
After a numerous amount of time playing around, you can feel your own face starting to hurt and you allow yourself a peaceful dance with the little boy in your hands who instantly wraps his arms around your neck when he notices. It’s slightly uncomfortable, but it’s only a child with no expectations of you hugging him back or doing anything for that matter, so you try to relax the muscles in your back and you try to focus on something else.  
  
You find Chloe then.  
  
Standing in the middle of the ever growing group, dancing with at least ten kids at the same time, Chloe has a bright smile plastered to her face and she looks happy.  
  
The sight alone is enough to make you smile, and you have to fight to get it off of your face when she makes eye contact with you, but you know you’ve failed when she winks at you. You watch how she picks Emily up and rests her on her body the same way you did earlier with Dylan as she removes herself from the group and joins your space.  
  
She inches closer to the two of you and eventually it feels like you’re dancing more with her than with the kid in your arms.  
  
“I think yours is falling asleep.” Chloe whispers in your ear, her breath warm and gentle against your skin. She moves back again, her smile directed at no one else but you.  
  
It takes you a few seconds to pull your eyes away from that beautiful sight to look at the little boy in question. His eyes are only half opened, his huge smile almost completely gone, only the hints of it still visible in the corners of his lips.  
  
“You tired, little one?” You ask while tickling the boy back to life. He laughs again, his cheeks puffed up and red while he shakes his head quickly. “I think you are.” You say with a smile, watching the boy shake his head a little faster this time. “Well, I am. I’m old.” You state seriously, but exaggerated.  
  
“No, you’re not!” Emily yells.  
  
“I am. Old people can’t dance all night. They have to go to bed really early.”  
  
Emily looks at Chloe, as if she’ll find the truth with her and you’re glad your friend is playing along.  
  
“You’re not old.” Dylan whispers, giggling while he speaks.  
  
“How old do you think I am, then?”  
  
The boy has to think about the question for a few seconds. “Forty-five?” The boy pitches carefully, his hands quickly covering his mouth after the words have left.  
  
You let your jaw drop dramatically, your eyes turn to Chloe in disbelief, but the girl just seems to enjoy herself.  
  
“That’s too old!” Emily comes to your rescue.  
  
“Thank you.” You say as if you’ve been insulted by the boy’s words.  
  
“A hundred?” Dylan tries again.  
  
“Okay, time to get you to bed.”  
  
You drop the little boy and girl off with Uncle Jerry. The two of them pass out before you’ve even finished the conversation with the man. Chloe returns to the dancefloor, but you need a drink after that whole fiasco.  
  
Within the next hour, the room starts to lose people fast, but Chloe and her family make no attempt to get out of here anytime soon. You don’t mind. It’s fun to watch your friend enjoy herself the way she is and you have an open bar to your availability. What more do you need?  
  
You’re in a boring conversation with the bartender when you feel someone’s body pressing into your back, their arms draping over your chest and pulling you close.  
  
“These shoes are so comfortable, Becs.” Chloe says with her face next to yours, her breath hitting your cheek before you feel the girl placing her teeth around the shell of your ear.  
  
You gulp quickly, eyes still focused on the bartender in front of you who’s watching your friend attentively before seeing the look on your face and heading towards the other end of the bar. You turn around and Chloe pushes herself between your legs immediately. You watch her closely, but she actually doesn’t seem drunk at all. You hate to admit, but you think you’re now the one with more alcohol in her system than your friend.  
  
Before you can come up with some sort of sarcastic insult, Chloe leans into your space and you feel her lips touching yours. You wonder when this became such a natural thing that without even realizing what’s going on, your lips move back against hers instantly.  
  
It doesn’t last long, though. Your friend pulls away after a few seconds and looks at you all too satisfied. “We’re leaving.” She states as her hands pull you to your feet. You follow suit towards the exit of the building where the rest of the Beales are saying their goodbyes. You find the couple who hosted the party to thank them and you greet some people on the way out, whose names you’ve long forgotten.  
  
“You’ve got a little something..-“ Chloe’s sister Lucy says as you pass by her, her hand reaches up and her thumb swipes over the corner of your lips. “-right there.” She finishes as she inspects the substance that’s now on her finger. You know the girl probably knew what it was when it was still on your face, but now that the red lipstick is thick and obviously sitting on her finger, it’s hard to pretend you don’t know what it is or how it got there.  
  
Lucy winks at you before walking after her parents and you find Chloe a few feet away, her red lips curled into a smile as you curse her with your glare.

* * *

  
It’s deep in the night by the time you arrive back at the Beales residence, so it’s no surprise everyone scatters out and disappears into their own room. You and Chloe do the same, after two nights of getting a minimum amount of rest, you’re looking forward to sleep like a baby tonight.  
  
“Why do you always wear boxer shorts?” Chloe asks from her side of the bed as you change into your nightwear.  
  
“Am I not allowed to?” You throw back as you get into the bed and lie down on your back beside the girl.  
  
“I’m just wondering if you actually like them or if it’s your need to rebel against every ordinary thing in the world, including regular underwear.”  
  
You turn your head to see Chloe’s devious smile. You softly snort at her words, wondering how she got to know you so well. “In case you forgot, I happen to do ordinary things at times. Like joining a club in college at a girl’s request.” You say with a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you get into the bed, your hand falling in contact with your friend’s and instead of pulling it back like you normally would have, you rest it there and hold her hand just because you can.  
  
The action causes your friend to inch closer.  
  
“I have a question.” Chloe speaks suddenly terrifyingly serious.  
  
“Oh, is this finally question number five? Are you sure?” You say with an annoying grin and a quick glance towards the girl’s close face. “What kind of deep personal childhood story you wanna know, now?”  
  
Chloe shifts a little in the bed, her hand simply resting in yours as her eyes drill into the side of your face. “The deal we made, when we first met. Do you think that’s still what it is? Just a deal?”  
  
You’re not sure what you had expected the question to be, but you figured it would be a little more personal. Maybe something about your family or your father, something she would have to force you to talk about by using her questions. “What do you mean?” It’s the only thing you can say.  
  
“Well, the deal was sex in return of you joining the Bellas. But I don’t think I’d want to stop having sex with you if you decide today you don’t want to be a Bella anymore.”  
  
You’re not entirely sure what this is about, but you’re not thinking about leaving her group. “I do wanna-, I mean, I’m not gonna leave the Bellas.” You rephrase in favor of not calling yourself a _Bella_.  
  
“I know, but that’s not because of the deal, right?”  
  
“What are you getting at, Beale?” You ask suspiciously.  
  
“I’m just saying that I don’t think the deal stands anymore. I think that you’re with the Bellas, because you want to, and we’re sleeping together because we want to.”  
  
You contemplate these words for a second before deciding your friend is right. The deal was you’d join her little glee club and you’d get to sleep with the most beautiful girl on campus in return, but if she’d decide that she didn’t want to sleep with you anymore, you’d still stay with the Bellas. The group needs you too much. And the other way around, if you got yourself kicked out of the group, you doubt it would have an effect on how you feel about sleeping with Chloe. “Okay.” You agree calmly.  
  
“Okay?” She repeats questioning.  
  
“Okay, so it’s not a deal anymore.”  
  
Chloe sighs tiredly. “I don’t want it like that.”  
  
“No, I’m saying you’re right.” You explain yourself more thoroughly. “It’s not a deal anymore. It probably hasn’t been in a while, right?”  
  
You watch your friend’s eyes grow in surprise, her lips parted but no words following that action.  
  
“What? Thought I was gonna freak out and run again?”  
  
Chloe’s head drops to your shoulder and you can hear her laughing against your skin. “No.” She answer after a while, not doing her case any good. Her lying eyes meet yours and she bursts out in laughter almost immediately. “Okay, maybe a little. I didn’t think you’d leave, but yes, you’re taking this surprisingly well.”  
  
You shrug proudly, as if you could have predicted this outcome. To be honest, it’s just as surprising to yourself, but Chloe’s in the right. Whatever you have with the girl hasn’t felt like a deal for a while now.  
  
Chloe moves your face towards her by using her index finger and its strength on your jaw. You move willingly and you meet her lips there. She kisses you soft and slow and you can do nothing but return that sweetness.  
  
“Goodnight, Becs.”  
  
“Nite, Beale.”  
  
You turn back on your back and so does your friend, but your intertwined set of hands remain together and between your two separate bodies.  
  
You sleep a lot better that night.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
After a good night’s rest, your body starts to awake slowly. The first thing that you notice is how close Beca is to you. Somewhere in the night, you’ve turned on your side and your hand unlocked from your friend’s, much to your dislike. But you know in what position the girl has fallen asleep without even opening your eyes.  
  
You can feel her head and her knees resting against your back, barely making contact, but it’s enough to warm you up.  
  
You slowly and softly lift your hips off the mattress to turn around as quietly as possible. You force your eyes to open and they happily find your friend’s face close to yours. You shift a little in the bed so you can rest your forehead against Beca’s, watching her as close as you can without awakening the girl.  
  
Beca hums at the touch, but other than that, there’s no sign of life there. Her face remains neutral, something you don’t see a lot, and her body lays still and near you.  
  
Something inside you flutters at the sight of the girl in bed with you, looking as calm and content as she did yesterday on that couch. You can admit it crossed your mind before you fell asleep last night, the idea of waking up alone again, after the conversation you had with the girl. Even though it went ten times as well as you could have ever anticipated, a hundred times better than the conversation you had the previous night, you still couldn’t be sure she’d stay with you.  
  
You’re still figuring out what makes Beca Mitchell leave and what makes her stay.  
  
The remembrance of the conversation you had last night pulls at your lips and you can’t stop the smile from spreading. It was the first, small step towards.. Something.  
  
Beca telling you it wasn’t the deal that caused her to kiss you right before Thanksgiving dinner, that caused her to have sex with you in the car ride towards Kansas, that caused her to rest her hand on your thigh at least fifty per cent of the time she was driving, it made you want to ask her more, to say the least.  
  
_“It’s not a deal anymore. It probably hasn’t been in a while, right?”  
_  
You had done a quick run through your memories to see if you could determine when the line was crossed, which kiss was still because of the deal and which one wasn’t, but you couldn’t find anything. You wanted to ask her. You wanted to talk to her about what this means and, if she likes sleeping with you, does that mean she likes all the other things as well? The hand holding? The dates to her club, or a bar, or just a restaurant on campus? Does she like spending time with you? Does she like **_you_**?!  
  
All those questions and many more rested impatiently on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t let any of them slip past your barriers. You couldn’t. You couldn’t dare to lose her again, not after the day you just had with her, where you could see how easy it was for Beca to ignore you. You couldn’t push her into a conversation, one you are not even sure you are ready to have.  
  
So you laughed and you kissed her, for the first time without chains of the deal you once made. It was a good kiss, releasing a freeing feeling, but other than that mental realization, it was as great a kiss as all the others you’ve had with the girl. Which led you to wonder once again, which ones were caused out of obligation and which ones were out of desire?  
  
Staring at a sleeping Beca Mitchell, her face covered with a soft layer of magic, taking the edge off of all her usual hardened features, but not substituting them, simply making them beautiful in a different way, it’s hard to come up with a time where you kissed her out of anything but desire.  
  
You keep your hands trapped between your thighs, not trusting them to keep off Beca if you were to set them free.  
  
You don’t want to wake her, but touching her just seems so appealing. Part of you wants to simply watch this gorgeous girl forever, be a witness to how she sleeps the hours away, and another part of you, a part that’s growing by the second, wants to touch her, feel her awakening underneath your fingers, watch how her face changes back to its hard features, watch how the soft layer falls from her face.  
  
You manage to fight it for a few more minutes, but eventually you reach out, fixing the girl’s hair slowly before letting your fingers trail over her jaw and towards the back of her neck.  
  
You feel her swallow underneath your touch before she starts to hum in annoyance, her eyebrows dropping low in the blink of an eye, the soft edges brought onto her slumber disappear from her face so fast that you almost miss it. “What time is it?” She asks, her voice low and raw as it fight its way out of her throat.  
  
“I don’t know.” You whisper back, not interested in taking your eyes off of Beca to check the clock, not even for a second.  
  
Her eyes slowly start to open, one before the other, focusing on you as soon as they do. Which would be hard not to, since you’re probably taking up all of her sight by the close proximity. “Have you been creepily staring at me all night or just for the last twenty minutes?”  
  
You wonder if she actually noticed during her subconsciousness or if she’s taking a lucky guess. “It’s not my fault you’re so easy on the eyes.”  
  
Beca’s cheeks light up and she quickly turns on her back to either hide it or prevent it from spreading. “It’s too early for your flirting, Beale.” She speaks through a yawn.  
  
“It’s never too early for that.” You say as you move to straddle the girl’s hips in one smooth move. Now that she’s awake, you’re done keeping your hands to yourself.  
  
“I know what you’re doing.” She mumbles against your lips.  
  
Due to that action, Beca’s mouth is more open and it’s easier for you to deepen the kiss. She sighs heavily into your mouth before catching up with you and returning the favor. Her tongue swirls through your mouth smoothly and hungrily.  
  
By the time she lets you breathe, you had almost forgotten she had said anything at all.  
  
“I thought we settled this last night.” You speak quickly before placing your lips back on hers. “I want to have sex with you.” You say bold before moving away from the girl’s mouth and pushing her head up by a nudge of your nose against her jaw. “Don’t you?” You ask just before sucking at the soft skin of Beca’s neck. You feel her heartbeat speeding up underneath your touch.  
  
“I do.” Beca breathes out heavily, her voice clearly affected by your actions. “But I told you-“ Her hands pull your face back towards her and you can’t help the grin from appearing on your face as soon as you find the girl’s eyes. “-Not here.”  
  
She looks serious, the hints of her dark eyeliner still visible from last night where she took only a minute to clean her face, but her swollen, red lips spark your interest more and her fingers digging into your hips give her away. “Not here?” You ask as your eyes drop to the bed. “Where would you rather have me, Beca?”  
  
The girl freezes in place before she manages an eye roll.  
  
“Bathroom? I did always notice you need a lot less when it comes to shower sex.” You say with the remembrance of the few occasions you’ve had with the girl in the shower stalls back on campus and how she seemed to be ready before you even touched her.  
  
“Oh my God.” Beca complains as she hides her face in the pillow.  
  
“Or is there some other place you’ve been thinking about? The kitchen, maybe? Oh! My parents’ bedroom.” You state as if you’ve solved it all.  
  
Beca’s face however seems mortified at your words. “What?! Gross.” She sputters out. “No, not anywhere in this house, Beale.”  
  
You rest your weight on the girl’s lap before putting on an exaggerated pout. “Why not?”  
  
“Well for starters, you’re way too loud.”  
  
Your mouth falls open at the insult. “I am not!” You yell out, only making it a better case for Beca who raises her eyebrows smug. “I only do that to serve your ego.” You lie confidently.  
  
Beca simply shrugs as if she’s fine with that either way. She sits up and moves her hands over your back, making you believe she’s going to kiss you, but instead she works fast to turn you around. You end up with your back pressed into the mattress, Beca between your legs and hovering over you with her lips almost in contact with you.  
  
“I’m gonna shower.” She whispers, purposely letting her lips touch yours while she speaks before moving away from you.  
  
It takes you a full minute to regain yourself after feeling your crush pushed into you like that.  
  
You end up taking a shower yourself, using your personal one in favor of the bathtub across the hall, which you’d guess is taken by your friend, anyway.  
  
You quickly get dressed and meet your family downstairs. Uncle Jerry and your father are lovingly arguing about something. It takes you a second to understand what they’re talking about, but when you see his suitcases by the door, you have figured it out.  
  
“Sweetheart, tell your uncle to listen to his brother and stay another night.”  
  
 “I’m staying out of this.” You say with a short laugh, your eyes hovering over Uncle Jerry and the little boy in his arms while his other two children are hanging around his ankles. “But you should probably listen to him.” You whisper to your uncle as you take the kid out of his arms.  
  
The three-year old boy starts to whine almost immediately, but he stops as soon as you sing along to the music and his eyes grow a size or two. He’s really attached to his father, so it feels good to see the boy comfortable in your arms.  
  
Emily and Dylan follow you into the living room shortly after and the girl, the eldest of the kids, starts to gush about how excited she is that they’re staying for another day. Even Dylan, who is usually quite calm, is jumping on the couch from enthusiasm.  
  
You’re hanging around in the living room with the kids, watching cartoons and laughing as loud as you can, when Beca comes down the stairs.  
  
“I now know who you got that barging into the shower from.” She speaks grumpy as she takes a seat next to you.  
  
You would ask her what she’s talking about, but your mother appears in the living room as well and you see her throw your friend a wink. Beca in return smiles uncomfortably until your mom has left the room again, to which she lets out a sound of annoyance.  
  
“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, Becs.” You say with a giggle.  
  
“Oh, it was worse than that. She didn’t even care.” Beca says shocked, her eyes wide and her voice in a whisper. “I was naked in the tub and she was peacefully cleaning the bathroom. She was in there for like ten minutes, all the while making small talk with me.” Beca hisses. “Pretty sure I’ve been traumatized for life.”  
  
“Isn’t the dressed person supposed to be traumatized by the naked person?” You ask contemplating.  
  
Beca simply shakes her head as an answer, still upset by the altercation. “I could have been doing headstands while slapping myself on my naked butt and she still wouldn’t have cared.”  
  
You burst out in laughter at your friend’s words. “I would love to see that.” You say as the image creates itself in front of your eyes.  
  
“You said ‘ _butt’_.” Dylan giggles from the other side of the couch. He hides half his face behind his pair of hands and it makes him all the more cute.  
  
Beca rolls her eyes, but you see the corners of her lips curling upwards. “Well, I guess there are worse words he could’ve picked up from me.” Beca mutters to you in secret before she grabs the boy and they start a tickle fight.

* * *

  
“I’m going to walk Rufus.” Beca says mid-afternoon, after spending most of the day with your family hanging around in the living room, watching musicals with the karaoke option flipped on so you can sing along whenever there’s a song in the film.  
  
You’re actually surprised Beca didn’t leave the room sooner. You guess your parents singing and dancing to The Sound of Music wasn’t as unbearable to watch as you had anticipated. Your friend didn’t contribute, _of course she didn’t_ , but you saw her head dance a few times and you even caught her lip syncing to Singin’ In The Rain.  
  
“Let me just get my shoes.” You say before hopping out of the living room, this time not taking no as an answer and joining Beca on her walk around town. You return with a pair in hand and you drop down on the couch to put them on.  
  
Beca’s eyebrow rises up confidently. “I’m not trading shoes with you again, Beale.” Her eyes stay focused on the heels that are now placed on your feet.  
  
These are only two inch high and are barely to be called heels at all, but you’re long happy Beca’s not protesting you’re joining her.  
  
“Where are you two going?” Emily ask from behind the couch.  
  
After watching Beauty and The Beast, your sister continued with Les Misérables and the kids seemed bored on instant. They ask if they can tag along, but the two brothers are already pulling on their coats and it seems they asked the question just for show.  
  
“Okay, but hold on. You have to go ask your father first.” Beca speaks semi-firm, her hands resting on each of the boys’ shoulders and they simply nod and run through the room, pulling at their father’s sweater until he gives them his attention.  
  
The kids come running back, fast and with no intention to pull to a stop, they crash into your legs. You help Dylan with his shoelaces before exiting the house. Outside, it’s beautiful. A little chilly, but it’s dry and the sun is up, not doing much to warm your skin, but it’s present.  
  
Walking around town with Beca’s hand in yours, the three kids running around you and the happy Labrador following your friend’s every move with the leash loosely around his collar, it makes you feel like you’re drifting, except you can feel your feet touching the ground. There’s a warmness settling down in your chest, making you feel both heavy and light at the same time, making it both easier to breathe and complicate it on two different levels.  
  
After walking for no more than ten minutes, the kids start running towards a park they’ve spotted and they’re running around and climbing at the playground equipment before you’ve even reached the fence. Beca releases Rufus who just finds a spot in the grass and lies down, his eyes closing immediately while you and Beca find a bench to sit on.  
  
You grow colder now that your body is no longer moving, but it’s still nice to sit out here and watch the frozen trees surrounding the playground lose drops of melted ice every now and then. You exchange words with Beca, but mostly you’re silently watching the kids playing and enjoying themselves. And it’s comfortable.  
  
Usually, you’re a big fan of filling up the empty spaces, and you do it so easily and so well.  
  
But with Beca it’s different. You know she’s not a fan of excessive and useless chatter, and you know she doesn’t need it to be at ease in your presence. It’s relaxing, knowing that you can let the air sit between the two of you and you don’t have to worry about piercing through it with meaningless words.  
  
“Pinch me for I am dreaming. Chloe-bear, is that you?”  
  
A guy’s voice however does crush the silence, and it’s a voice you had forgotten, but it all comes back so easily. “Teddy-bear?!” You find the person behind the voice standing a few feet away from you, placed just inside of the fence and seemingly to have entered it just because of you.  
  
“Come here!” Ted yells out, his arms spread and knees slightly bent like he always used to because of his height.  You don’t remember getting up from that bench and letting go of Beca’s hand, but the next thing you know, you’re in your old friend’s arms and his cologne brings back high school memories.  
  
You pull yourself out of his arms to examine his face. “Oh my God, you haven’t changed a thing!” You say when you find features you’ve known so well all those years ago. You quickly throw your arms around his neck again and the laugh he lets out warms your heart, reminding you of all the times you made him laugh like that.  
  
“You’ve just gotten more beautiful.” He speaks loud as he uses his arms to lift you off of your feet.  
  
After another too short of a moment, you’re out of his arms again and it seems all you can do is stare at the man who once knew you better than anyone. You could look at the guy in front of you for days or even weeks, the tight-lipped smile and his gorgeous dark eyes, but there’s a scrape of the throat coming from behind you and when you turn to look, you find your friend awkwardly hovering behind you.  
  
“Hey.” She says quick when eyes have noticed her, probably lost for anything else to say. “I’m Beca.” She continues, her hand extended towards your old friend who shakes it immediately.  
  
“Ted.” He replies with a nod of the head.  
  
“I am so sorry!” You curse yourself for letting the two of them introduce themselves. “Ted, Beca is one of my best friends. Beca, this is my friend from back in high school.” You say fast, as if that would make up for it.  
  
“Well, not _just_ a friend.” Ted corrects smug and with a loud laugh. You think you saw something flash across Beca’s face -annoyance, anger, something- at the man’s words, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye, leaving you to think that perhaps you’ve imagined it. “Can’t believe it’s been almost four years, Chloe-bear.” Ted says while shaking his head as his arm pulls you closer to his chest.  
  
Now that you’re no longer facing him and instead your eyes are on Beca, you notice the tight, locked jaw of your friend, the way her lips are smiling, but it’s unconvincing and her eyes give her away. Something is troubling her.  
  
“Chloe-bear and Teddy-bear.” Beca’s eyes snap to yours, her voice forced to sound like a question, but it comes across more as a statement. “That’s adorable.” She spits out, her eyes showing a flash of anger and you’re not sure what’s making her act that way.  
  
“Because my nickname’s Teddy and-“  
  
“Yeah, no, it’s pretty clear, dude.” Beca says again, her voice forced to sound light, but you pick up on the agitated edge to it and how fast she’s replying, how tight her fists are shut.  
  
Ted doesn’t seem to notice all these things, because he keeps laughing at your friend, but you see the differences, you spot the features that contrast with the usual way her face forms.  
  
You’ve just opened your mouth to ask her what’s wrong, when Emily interrupts. “Chlo, Dylan ran into a tree!” She yells out, her hand tugging at yours on instant.  
  
Your eyes snap away from Beca’s face to find the boy sitting near a tree, his head in his hands and you think you can hear him crying, hanging against his little brother’s body. Your feet move immediately, but Beca’s hand around your wrist stop you in your tracks.  
  
“It’s alright, I’ll go.” She tells you and you watch how her eyes are more in contact with the male person behind you than on you. “You probably have a lot of catching up to do.” Beca continues. Emily seems to be getting impatient, because she’s off running back to her brother, done waiting for Beca to follow her.  
  
Beca’s eyes fall back on you and they seem lighter, no longer angry or annoyed or whatever it was that flashed by her, making you believe that you misread it and it was never there in the first place, since there was no provocation for it, no reason for it to exist at all.  
  
Beca releases your wrist and she moves half her body to leave, before deciding not and she turns back awkwardly, placing her lips on yours fast and without a cue, kissing you hard for a hot, long second before moving away and taking off to where the boy is seated on the grass, never making eye contact with you.  
  
“Alright!” Ted cheers behind you, but you barely notice it.  
  
Because you hadn’t misread her facial expressions and you were right to think something bothered her. Now you know what it was. The very thing that led her to kiss you in front of your old boyfriend wasn’t triggered by anything you said or did, not even what Ted said or did, it was caused by her own feelings and emotions. How can you not smile brightly at a jealous Beca?  
  
You think about going after her, teasing her about her actions and forcing her to admit she was jealous, but you don’t.  
  
Not yet, at least.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Human beings are works in progress who mistakenly think they’re finished." -Dan Gilbert
> 
> /

You knew it was a bad day from the moment you woke up and found Beale creepily staring at you.  
  
You should have snapped your eyes shut and slept the day away, but instead you had to deal with whatever the hell that conversation from last night meant and Mrs. Beale walking into your private bathroom time.  
  
One no worse than the other.  
  
The conversation wasn’t scaring you as much as you had anticipated. Even after waking up and feeling much clearer than the night before, it calmed you somehow, to know that what the two of you are doing isn’t out of obligation to some deal.  
  
You came to terms with the whole thing during your relaxing bathroom time. The feeling of every inch of your body drowning in the warm water and getting cleaned by the soap in the tub worked your muscles better than a massage could, untying knots you hadn’t even realized were in your back. That tension, of course, came right back as soon as the door flung open and Mrs. Beale asked if you needed any specific hygiene products for your _lady parts_.  
  
You could have handled just the embarrassment of that question and the fact that the woman waited around for an answer, which was the word no repeated excessively, all in different voices and ranging from high to low.  
  
But the woman started cleaning the bathroom while making conversation with you. You would have fled the room approximately seven times had it been any other situation, one where you would preferably be wearing clothes.  
  
By the time the woman was close to finished with her cleansing rituals, she dropped down and hugged you. You just stayed frozen in place, both unable to comprehend what was going on and knowing your wet hands would leave stains if you could control your muscles and get your arms to hug the woman back, even though Mrs. Beale’s hands were both underwater to hug you and she presumably wouldn’t care about stains.  
  
She pulled away and her hands brushed over your chest, closing the awful experience in the perfect way.  
  
That traumatizing encounter was enough for years of therapy, but it wasn’t over then. You were stuck spending your morning and part of the afternoon watching movies with the Beales. And not just movies. Musicals. Which means that not only is there a stupid, cliché love story that you don’t give a fuck about, there’s also people bursting out in song for no apparent reason. It’s the most unrealistic thing you’ve ever seen, but Chloe’s family was loving it and they were kind of fun to watch.  
  
After a numerous amount of films, the number way higher than should be possible, you were glad to get out of the house for a little while. Chloe and Uncle Jerry’s kids joined you and Rufus, but you didn’t mind. The kids were occupied within each other and Chloe was mostly silent, something you were thankful for. You could not handle her analyzing what that conversation from last night meant in its roots.  
  
And just when you thought things were turning around, or at least that the day couldn’t possibly get any worse, some football player looking guy shows up and ruins everything.  
  
He’s easily twice your size, in both height as in width. His big, muscled arms wrapped around your friend make Chloe seem smaller than you’ve ever seen her. The way they cling to each other makes you want to vomit on the spot, but that’s nothing compared to how their nicknames for each other make you feel.  
  
_Teddy bear, really?  
_  
That’s the most unoriginal thing you’ve ever heard and you hate it.  
  
You wish you had the strength to pull your eyes off of the two, but you fear your mind will create worse images than the actual sight if you do, so you continue to watch how they pull away and jump back into each other’s arms after a few seconds.  
  
You don’t know why their simple encounter feels like a personal attack, but it hits you low in your stomach and a dozen different places. You’ve always known Chloe is all for physical contact, the more the better, in her book. And it was hard to get used to simple things, like her hand in yours or simply touching your skin. Hell, you’re still coming to terms with your muscles not responding to her touch. But she gave you space and time, so much so that you had simply forgotten this part of her.  
  
The part where she will jump around an old friend’s neck simply because she can and how she has no problem with letting her hands slide all over his body.  
  
You have to swallow hard at the sight of that.  
  
It’s stupid, but you know you have to break up the moment, forever wondering how long they would have stood there had you not interrupted.  
  
“Hey. I’m Beca.” You say while pushing the anger and disgust out of your voice.  
  
“Ted.” The young man introduces himself, his smile bright and completely fitting to your friend’s, not at all easing your racing mind.  
  
You wish he was an asshole, so you had a reason for your hatred, but he’s nice and full of happiness, so you decide that’s grounded enough.  
  
By the time you finally let your eyes find your friend’s, she’s closely examining you and you have a hard time keeping a straight face and hiding your annoyance. You know she can read you, maybe too well, definitely better than you’d like, and you know she’s going to turn this into a big deal.  
  
You’ve never been happier to see Emily. Both the prospect of being alone with _Teddy bear_ and having to pretend you like him cause you to stop Chloe from leaving. You should really give into the little girl tugging at your hand, but something about leaving your friend with her old boyfriend together causes your body to resist.  
  
Without much thought to it, you kiss her. Not because you’re jealous and you want him to know you’ll beat his ass if he tries anything, definitely not because of that.  
  
Definitely not.  
  
Besides, Chloe kisses you in front of people all the time. So what if you do it once? In front of her ex-boyfriend.  
  
_God, you are so fucked.  
_  
You keep walking until find the hurt, little boy sitting on the grass. You check him from head to toe, but you can’t find a scratch on him, just a slight bump on his head.  
  
“I think we should let your dad get a look at this.”  
  
The boy shakes his head fast and claims he’s fine, but tears are still falling from his face. You sit down opposite of him, able to give him your full attention so you’re not distracted by Chloe and Ted behind you.  
  
You hope when you turn around later, he’ll be gone. Forever, preferably.  
  
You try a few more approaches, but the boy is reluctant to leave the park. “What if we make a short stop at the house and then go get some ice cream?” It’s your last resort and you’re glad this one finally seems to be the winning one. You help him to his feet and he starts to walk, his hands still glued to the side of his head as if that will make the pain disappear.  
  
The little boy, followed closely by his siblings, starts to sob again and in lack of better actions to help the kid, you pick him up and carry him towards where your friend is seated on the bench with her ex-boyfriend.  
  
You’re not _happy_ the kid bumped his head, but at least you have an actual reason to get out of here.  
  
You reach the bench where Ted has his arm around Chloe and it sparks the fire within you again. “ _I’m_ gonna get these kids home.” You say with a little spite in your voice. You’re not even sure why, because Chloe attempted to help the boy before you did and the only reason she didn’t, is because you stopped her. You shouldn’t make her feel bad about this, but somehow you just have this desire to push her buttons.  
  
“Oh no, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Chloe jumps off the bench to dry the kid’s tears. Her voice is high and pouty, as if she’s talking to a baby.  
  
“He’ll be alright, we’re just gonna stop by the house before we go for ice cream, right kid?”  
  
The three kids all start to cheer, Dylan with glassy eyes, but at least the tears have stopped. You don’t really know how to handle crying children, or children in general.  
  
“Well, you’re not going without me!” Chloe yells as she does a weird dance with Emily. “Ted, I have to go.”  
  
Thank God, you think. At least you won’t have to see him anymore.  
  
“Sure thing, babe. I’ll see you tonight!”  
  
_Babe? Tonight?_ You don’t know what disgusts you more. You think you’re going to be sick.  
  
You exit the park and you last a few minutes before you give up the internal fight. “What’s happening tonight?” You make your voice sound as indifferent as you can while your eyes stay on the road in front of you.  
  
“Oh, we’re just going out for dinner to catch up. You don’t mind, do you?”  
  
_You do.  
_  
“You get along great with my family, so I’m sure you can have a few hours with them without me there, right?”  
  
The only good part about carrying a six year old for a couple of blocks in a row is that at least you have your hands occupied and they can’t be held by _certain_ people. “You act like I can’t stand to be without you.” You scoff.  
  
The girl just laughs and bumps her shoulder against yours. “You know I’d bring you to dinner with me and Ted, but then you’d probably get jealous again and kiss me a lot. Although, now that I think about it, it does sound better with you there.”  
  
You turn your head to give her an angry glare, but she just winks at you smug and confident. “I’m not jealous.” You decide to state nonchalant.  
  
“You know it’s okay if you are, Becs. I get jealous of Jesse all the time.”  
  
“What? Why the fu-“ Remembering there are three small children in your near range, you swallow the choice of words quickly. “Why would you be jealous of Jesse?” You state semi-annoyed to hide your true curiosity. But Chloe just shrugs as an answer. “And that’s not the same, by the way. I never dated Jesse. Thank God.” You end as you shiver at the thought. “That would be like dating my brother.”  
  
“Ted and I were never anything serious.” Chloe explains as her hand travels up the small of your back, drawing circles there with her fingers. “We had a good time together and then we both left for college, so we broke up.”  
  
The thought that the only reason the two of them separated is because Chloe was leaving the state is slightly intimidating. It means there might still be feelings there. Either from her side or from both of theirs.  
  
You don’t know why the whole thing bothers you so much. Your friend going out on a date with Hannah didn’t even bother you this much, but somehow her ex-boyfriend can get a rise out of you. The fact that she actually dated this person and might have still been with him under different circumstances hurts you.  
  
You know it’s crazy and you have no right, but it still pisses you off.  
  
“How long were you together for?” You ask, trying to sound genuinely interested in the girl’s relationship with the boy, although you do really want to know the answer, just to calm your mind, you have absolutely no interest in that part of her life.  
  
“A year. Year and a half.” Chloe says as if it’s nothing.  
  
“A year and a half and you call that nothing serious?” _So much for calming your mind._  
  
Chloe sticks by her point that the relationship wasn’t serious, because apparently they hung out and didn’t care what the other person did when they weren’t together. It’s still hard for you to believe that a person can be in a relationship for over a year and label that as nothing.  
  
“So you were together, but you were also allowed to be with other people?” You ask, this time truly interested.  
  
“No, of course not.” Chloe speaks with a small smile falling from her lips before her feet falter and her eyes grow serious. She’s quick to pick up the pace again, her feet falling into the same rhythm as yours while she blinks a few times in thought. “Maybe we were, but I never did.” She whispers before her usual brightness reappears and she’s back to skipping the pavement with Emily beside her.  
  
You don’t want to push her into a conversation she doesn’t want to have, especially since she’s always so protective of your feelings and she never forces you to do anything, but somehow you’d like to understand this situation. “So you were together, but you weren’t seriously together, even though you were in a relationship for over a year and the only reason you broke up, was because you moved away for college?”  
  
Chloe hums in agreement, a big smile plastered to her face. “Jup.” She says, popping the p in exaggeration.  
  
“Did you even love him?” The question was meant to sound mocking, that if she can be so casual about that time she spent with him, she couldn’t possibly have that deep of an emotion for him, but it comes out in a serious matter and you don’t even know why you care or why you’re waiting for the answer.  
  
“In a way, I did.” Chloe says, her eyes tracing the sky above.  
  
The rest of the walk home, you stay silent and so does your friend.

* * *

  
After you’ve taken the kids out for ice cream, which was a challenge on its own, you get home and find John in the living room, who informs you Chloe’s gone to get ready for her evening. It bugs you that she’s dressing up, making herself even more beautiful than she is. You’d prefer it if she went out for dinner with her ex-boyfriend in sweats and an oversized hoodie, although she’d probably still look fucking gorgeous in that, so what would be the point?  
  
Besides, you know that Chloe dresses up for any occasion. It’s not like this one would be any different from her morning run or a coffee date with her best friend, but somehow this time, it bothers you.  
  
Maybe your stupid friend is right. Maybe you are jealous.  
  
Damn it, why is this all happening now?  
  
This whole Thanksgiving trip has resulted into a rollercoaster full of emotions. The small vacation has been mostly good, meeting your friend’s family, seeing where she grew up, the great Thanksgiving food, the not-too-awful wedding party. But so much has happened, it’s weird to think you’ve only been here for half a week.  
  
From Chloe telling you she loves you to agreeing the deal you made no longer stands, from seeing a truly, happy family to talking to your father, from your muscles no longer responding to your friend’s touch to getting jealous over the girl having dinner with her old boyfriend, you’ve been all over the place to say the least.  
  
There’s so much happening inside of you, you wouldn’t even know where to begin if you wanted to.  
  
Which you don’t.  
  
Right now, you just want to find Chloe.  
  
You let John beat you in another round of cards before excusing yourself and heading up the stairs. It’s not until you’ve set foot in your friend’s childhood bedroom that you come to the conclusion you have no idea what you’re doing or why you’re there. You don’t have an excuse ready.  
  
Chloe’s sitting in front of her mirror, applying makeup to her face while her eyes connect with yours through the reflective surface.  
  
You watch her, unable to pull your eyes away from her as she finishes up and turns. “What’s up, Becs?” She asks before dropping down onto her bed.  
  
For lack of better occupations of your hands, you go through your duffel bag as if you’re looking for something. “Nothing. Tired of John kicking my ass at that dumb card game.” You mutter, your mind blank as to what you had planned to say when coming up here.  
  
You hear the girl shift into a seated position on her bed, but you don’t dare to turn around and face her, afraid she’ll see the green in your eyes and the actual reason you’ve come to find her.  
  
“You know it’s a friendly dinner between me and Ted, just to catch up, right?”  
  
Apparently, she doesn’t need your eyes to notice it, it seems. You turn around and find her standing close behind you. “What? Yeah, of course, I don’t care.” You mumble fast and incoherent, cursing yourself as soon as the words have stopped coming.  
  
“You could still come with me.” The girl proposes, her hands sliding over your arms, creating goosebumps on your skin.  
  
You simply scoff. “As appealing as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.”  
  
But Chloe keeps her hands on your upper arms and doesn’t move away. With the girl this close, it’s difficult to make rational decisions, so you reach out and place your hands on her hips while connecting your lips to Chloe’s.  
  
She kisses you back, slow and steady, while her hands fall around your neck to pull you in deeper. You give in to her urging touch and move closer to her, so much so that you start to trip forwards and before you know it, you’re on the bed with Chloe laughing underneath you.  
  
It’s messy, something you’ve never had before. Being able to kiss someone so passionately and then breaking out in laughter with them two seconds later.  
  
She pulls you back in by your shirt, throwing slow and steady out the window as she sucks on your bottom lip and eagerly licks into your mouth, sliding your pants off of your butt and halfway down your legs.  
  
You reposition yourself on top of the girl, your naked knees resting on either side of her hips while you manage to keep yourself up with one hand flat on the mattress, the other one tangled into red curls of hair.  
  
Your friend’s arms are wrapped around your neck, her hands almost clawing at your back in an attempt to get you closer, but you think you need whatever distance there’s left between your two bodies.  
  
Chloe slowly goes back to more controlled kissing, her lips moving against yours almost professionally as her arms unwrap themselves from your neck to get her hands on your thighs. They travel from your knees up, unhurried and lazy as her fingers brush the inside of your thigh.  
  
You lean into the contact without thinking about it, you just have to feel her touch more, but Chloe’s hands keep a slow pace, almost dragging over your skin, much to your dislike. She creates sparks, but she doesn’t let it breathe enough to become a fire.  
  
Instead of waiting for the girl, you decide to take matters into your own hands, _quite literally_ , as you slip beneath her shirt and squeeze at her boobs. Chloe’s mouth falls open instantly and now that her lips are no longer on yours and her head has fallen back, you take your opportunity to create marks on the soft skin of her neck, distinctively remembering her evening plans as you place your teeth and suck a little harder than you normally would.  
  
“Don’t.” Chloe breathes out heavy, the hint of a smile hearable in her voice. You know she can feel you grin against her skin and you know that she knows that you’re not planning on stopping at all. Which is most likely the very reason she pushes her hand up between your legs and the electricity shoots through your body on impact.  
  
You find her devilish eyes, grinning widely at your probably shocked face while her hand remains still against your underwear, although you can feel the force of her two fingers gradually pushing into you.  
  
“Don’t.” You throw back. Now she’s the one who can grin and continue. Her index and middle finger push into you, the only thing preventing them from entering is the pair of shorts you’re wearing.  
  
“It’s kind of meaningless to tell me no when your body’s telling me yes, Becs.”  
  
With her fingers pushed into your center, your body is more like screaming at her to go on.  
  
But you can’t let her win this. You can’t let her have her way with you, claim victory over the very thing you wouldn’t give her, not in this house, just so she can get out and have dinner with her ex-boyfriend.  
  
She can’t satisfy you just to leave you. As if that would put your mind at ease. As if her hand in between your legs could make you feel better about her having dinner with Ted. As if this is all about sex.  
  
Because it’s not and if you had the strength to, you’d move away right now and leave the room, but Chloe is still so close and her hand is warm between your thighs and you don’t think there’s a person alive who’s strong enough to pull away from that.  
  
So instead of doing that, or even trying to, you put your mouth back on the woman underneath you and you kiss her hard. She removes her hand after a few minutes of teasing to pull your body close against her. It gets easier to concentrate on kissing her when there are no distracting fingers moving against your underwear.  
  
The doorbell rings.  
  
Chloe’s body goes limp underneath you as she lets out a heavy sigh.  
  
But you refuse to hand her over to her ex, not just yet. You want her to stay here, with you, and you know it’s stupid, but you think if you kiss her long enough, maybe she’ll forget who’s at the door.  
  
She hums against your lips and her hands are back at your hips within no time, her fingers trailing over exposed skin while you try your best to make both yourself as your friend forget who’s now in the house.  
  
“Chloe, Teddy is here!”  
  
It’s Chloe’s father yelling at her from downstairs, you think, but you don’t care all that much. He could be right in front of this door or even in the room and you wouldn’t notice, not with all the blood pumping through your ears, numbing every sound except Chloe’s.  
  
Your friend pulls her lips from yours, but you’re quick with the chase, capturing her bottom one with your teeth. She simply smiles and moans into your mouth when you push your tongue through her barriers, but it’s not long until the man yells again, his tone the same friendly one as if he believes Chloe never heard him the first time.  
  
“I’m coming!” Chloe yells back, this time quicker to pull away than you were with the pursuit. She lays still beneath you, her arms wrapped around your body, as her eyes lock on yours.  
  
“Great, now you’re going out with your ex all horny and worked up.” You sigh as your head falls against the girl’s collarbone, silently cursing yourself and your actions.  
  
You feel Chloe’s arms unfold from your back before her set of hands tuck at your jaw. You allow her to lift your head until your eyes meet again. “I’m going to be right back and then we can pick up where we left off.” She says as her hips lift off the mattress and push into your lower abdomen.  
  
You just scoff and let your eyes trail over the girl’s face.  
  
“I’m going to be thinking about you the whole time?” The girl pitches more as a question than a statement, as if these words would comfort you.  
  
She pecks your lips with hers before slipping out from under you. You let yourself fall to your back in annoyance and frustration, watching the girl fix her makeup and her hair, due to what you did with your lips and hands. Her eyes land on the bite marks on her neck before they turn to you, looking equally surprised as they do displeased.  
  
“Really, Beca?” She says with a shake of her head before covering it up with powder.  
  
You just shrug proudly as you lift yourself to your feet. Somehow the bed feels empty when it’s just you.  
  
“Alright, I have to go.” Chloe says as meets you by the door, but you make no attempt to let her go through. “Beca, listen to me.” She says as she takes your face in her hands. They warm your cheeks and they make you feel strangely safe. But she doesn’t continue, she just stays stuck in place with you until you reluctantly, almost childishly, meet her eye. “I don’t want anyone but you. Okay?”  
  
You nod in understanding and move to the side, giving her enough room to leave, which she does. But the truth is, you didn’t know. You never knew. And you don’t understand. But you don’t think now is the right time to let your mind go over that.  
  
After being frozen in place for a couple of minutes, you head downstairs yourself. There’s still a lot of noise coming from the entrance and when you’re halfway down the stairs, you wonder if it’s too late to disappear back upstairs.  
  
Ted and Chloe haven’t left yet, instead the guy has his arms around Chloe’s parents and they seem to be dying of laughter at his words.  
  
You start to feel sick again and you quickly head into the kitchen without anyone but Chloe noticing you. Of course this guy is loved by her parents. They must be crazy about him and maybe even encourage your friend to get back together with him. He’s charming and chatty, open and humorous from what you could tell. Everything that you’re not.  
  
It only intensifies your hatred towards the guy.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
After Beca left to go see about Dylan, you and Ted sit down on the park bench and chat about all the things that have happened since you last spoke. You saw him the summer after your first year in college while you were staying with your parents and evidently he did the same with his. You even shared a few days together and everything felt like it did when you were in high school together. That summer was the last time you saw him.  
  
But the man looks the same. Hints of age are visible in his darkened eyes and his chubby cheeks, but other than that, it’s the same guy you fell in love with all those years ago.  
  
Talking to him is easy, but it does remind you that it’s been a long time coming and even if the two of you may look the same as you did back then, high school was a long time ago and you’re definitely not that person anymore.  
  
You’ve changed. Grown. You see things a lot clearer now, details about your relationship you were fine with then, but hurt now. Which is a weird thing to experience.  
  
By the time you’ve covered most grounds for a first talk, -what’s going on in your life right now and what’s happened since high school- Beca reappears again. With a child in her arms, she looks rather harmless, but the locked jaw tells you otherwise.  
  
You leave the park with her and the kids while you talk about your ex-boyfriend. You haven’t thought of him in a long time, you never do. You’re not a big fan of looking back on your life to reassess, but now that you do, it’s difficult.  
  
Your relationship with Ted was simple. You were together in the sense of the word. You went out, made out, had fun, made love. He walked with you to class and carried your books. He was a gentleman and it was easy, because you never focused on anything hard. You never talked about the things that bothered you about him and neither did he. You kept things light and casual, never a single argument shared or a fight about something small and insignificant.  
  
You never called him out on the fact that he kept his socks on during sex, even though that annoyed you more than anything, or that he would come by your cheerleading practice to stare at Susie Jackson instead of you. You never said anything when he spent the entire week at your place yet he didn’t help clean up once.  
  
And you don’t know if he was ever with someone else during your relationship. At the time, you didn’t care. You knew there was that possibility, but you brushed it off. Made sure you didn’t think about that while you kept things light. You never asked him if he was unfaithful, because you probably couldn’t handle the answer.  
  
When things were good, they were great. You didn’t allow yourself to have anything but good times.  
  
“Did you even love him?” Beca’s eyes are wide and show a sparkle of something light in them, causing you to really think about it.  
  
You did love him. You’ve had the most amazing days with him, filled with fun and jokes and laughter. And he was sweet, he cared about you and he probably loved you, too. You don’t know why there’s a big ‘but..’ hanging over that thought.  
  
Perhaps, at the time, it was love. When you were younger and a little dumber. Looking back on it, with the life experiences in between, you can’t call it love anymore. Ted and you were too free and easygoing to have something to that extent.  
  
But that doesn’t mean you have a single regret regarding that time of your life. Ted was a great guy and you’ve loved every minute you spent with him. He was a nice guy, a perfect friend, but maybe not a great boyfriend, at least not for you.  
  
And perhaps you weren’t a fitting girlfriend for him, either. Maybe he needed someone to get jealous to the point of screaming and crying, maybe he needed chains and boundaries. But you’re just not that kind of person. You weren’t then, and even though you have grown in ways, you still aren’t that now.  
  
You don’t think you ever will.  
  
Dating Tom in college was already an improvement on Teddy, or so you had thought. Now that you’ve seen him again, thoughts about your old relationship resurfaced and you can’t help but wonder if what you had with Ted was the same thing you had with Tom.  
  
Both a relationship, but nothing like the traditional ones. Both were easy and relaxed, never fighting or getting upset about things that bothered you. With Tom, you told yourself that it was because you were in college and things are supposed to be fun and unrestrained. You told yourself it was okay to keep your worries and fears inside, all for the sake of keeping the peace.  
  
Suddenly, you can’t help but think what happened with Tom was your own fault.  
  
You don’t let your mind go there.  
  
Instead, you keep your thoughts at Teddy throughout the remaining part of the afternoon until you see him that evening, with the only exception of the timeframe where Beca came into your room and distracted you, to say the least.  
  
Teddy drives you towards this restaurant downtown. It’s an Indian place, and you remember how much he used to love that kind of food. The place is nice and quiet, at least it was until your old friend started talking. You wonder if his voice was always this loud where the people in the kitchen can probably hear every word of it, or if you’ve just forgotten this part of him. Maybe it never used to bother you that much. Or maybe you forgot it did, because you blocked all his annoying features out.  
  
The evening consists mostly out of small talk, which is easy to do, because that’s all you ever did with him. He talks about his job and college and what he’s planning to do after getting his diploma, while you do the same. You excitedly tell him about your art classes and how you’re sure that’s your path, not a single –of the so many- doubts uttered.  
  
You wonder if he’s doing the same. If he has fears and uncertainties that he hides. If his life after high school has been as easy as he makes it out to be, or if there has been pain, loss, heartache or anything where he got that gorgeous smile of his slapped from his face.  
  
Anything that would make him interesting. Anything that would make him honest. Anything that would make him human.  
  
But if he has, he doesn’t let it show.  
  
You try to push all those thoughts away, convincing yourself this is just a one-time thing and you should make it a fun night, because you won’t see him again after this. That everything that’s been getting under your skin is in the past and you’ve never been one to let that get to you.  
  
Except it isn’t in the past. You’re doing it right now. Instead of voicing everything that’s going on in your head, you keep it locked in and you convince yourself it’s for the best if you act happy and unconcerned.  
  
“Chloe-bear, you should totally try this!”  
  
There’s a fork with food hanging in the air in front of you, but you seem to have lost your appetite. “I’m fine, Ted. And just call me Chloe, please.” You say with your eyes locked on his face while your spoon travels through your spicy rice dish.  
  
“Why? You love it when I call you my Chloe-bear!” Ted says with a smile growing from his lips as he eats the food off of his own fork.  
  
“I don’t, actually.” The nickname has always left a sour taste in your mouth. It was cute in the beginning, when you had something of your own, but after a few months, it grew old. Being in your final year of high school using the nickname Teddy-bear for your boyfriend Ted was anything but cute.  
  
It was quite embarrassing now that you think about it.  
  
“What’s wrong?” The man in front of you asks with his mouth full of food. “Is that chicken also really tough on your stomach?”  
  
“Ted.” You whisper to get his attention. You wait for his smile to fall from his face. “Did you ever sleep with someone else while we were dating?”  
  
He laughs first. Then he scoffs. Then his eyes dart around your face and he starts to choke on the food in his mouth. You hand him his water and wait for him to pull himself together. “Of course I did. So did you.” He says with a confused look in his eyes, yet his lips are still pulled into a grin.  
  
As if this is all a joke.  
  
“I didn’t.” You state calm, following everything that flashes by his face.  
  
He breathes out heavy before a laugh escapes him. “Isn’t that something?” He states with a disbelieving shake of his head before he takes another fork full of food to his mouth.  
  
Knowing you’re not going get much more out of the man, and neither do you need much more, you push your plate of rice to the middle of the table. “I think I’m done. Can you take me home?” You’re not angry, not even disappointed. Deep down you think you knew. It’s a relief to get confirmation, though.  
  
“Now? I haven’t even had my samosa’s yet.”  
  
You just look at the guy in front of you, wondering if he can tell what you’re feeling. Wondering if he ever could or just never cared to try.  
  
“Chloe-bear, I don’t know what’s the big deal. Everyone in high school wanted you, because –yes, you were incredibly hot and sexy and smart-“He says those words fast and meaningless, as if they are meaningless to him. “-but mostly because you were so chill and you didn’t care if the person you dated hooked up with other people.”  
  
Nausea starts to spread and you think that small amount of rice you’ve eaten might be making its way up again. “Take me home, Ted.” You sigh tiredly. You never wanted to hear the real reason behind his desire to date you, but now at least you know. It hurts, but you won’t let him hurt you again.  
  
Ted is smart enough to keep his mouth shut during most of the ride home, although he speaks at times, asking why this matters now or why you’re letting this ruin the night, you decide to let silence speak for you. When you reach your street, you tell him to just drop you off and before he can protest, you’re out of his car and walking towards your parents’ house.  
  
The last thing you need is Ted walking you to the door and your parents inviting him in.  
  
Luckily, you hear his rubber tires rolling loudly over the streets and away from you.  
  
“Hey, sweetheart! You’re back home early. You know, if he dropped you off this early when you were dating, I might’ve liked him even better.” Your dad says as you enter the house.  
  
You try to make a quiet escape to your room, but your mother appears in the hallway and puts a stop to that plan.  
  
“What’s wrong, honey? Where’s Ted?” Your mother whispers as she pulls you into a hug. You’re not feeling emotional over what happened with your ex-boyfriend, more so reassured and glad you got away from him when you did, but a hug from your mom is nonetheless appreciated.  
  
“Nothing’s wrong, mom.” You say honestly. “I’m just gonna go to my room for a bit.” You explain. You know your mother will let you off the hook, but your father will want to hear details of the night and you’re truly not up for that.  
  
You manage to get out of your mother’s arms and take a few steps towards the stairs when you feel another hand stopping you.  
  
It’s Beca’s hand around your wrist, you don’t have to look around to know that.  
  
“Hey.” She whispers while walking around you, her eyes soft and examining your face. Contrary to Ted, Beca cares about how you feel. She might not be a great reader of people, but she tries to figure out what’s wrong before she even asks. “You okay?”  
  
You just nod and she nods back, as if she understands what you’re saying without you having to say it. She slips her hand from your wrist to your hand and guides you up the stairs and towards your old bedroom.  
  
“You don’t seem upset, but you do seem off, so if he did anything-“ Beca starts as soon as the door’s closed.  
  
“Beca-“  
  
“I promise I won’t hit him like I hit Hannah, but I just wanna have an adult conversation with him. If you could just give me his address, I’ll..” Beca falls quiet then and you think it’s because of the tears streaming over your cheeks.  
  
You don’t let your eyes meet hers. Instead, you stare at the floor and where her feet seem to be frozen in place. You quickly try to swallow the lump in your throat away and you wipe at your cheeks, knowing that you’ve scared her and she’s most likely lost and uncomfortable right now.  
  
You’re still trying to either stop the tears from coming out or at the very least hide their existence from your friend when you feel a body pushed against you, a set of arms holding onto you and not letting you go.  
  
It takes you a few seconds to realize what’s happening until you’re able to hug Beca Mitchell _back_.  
  
That’s something you had never thought you’d do.  
  
“I don’t know..” Beca starts, obviously lost for words, so you tighten the grip you have on her, pushing her head even closer to your body. Trying to let her know it’s not necessary for her to talk.  
  
You don’t want to move away. You’d stay in the girl’s arms forever if you could, but this is already a big step taken by your friend and you don’t want to make it a bad experience by clinging to her body for an extended period of time. So you release yourself from her hold and take a few steps back to clean your face using the back of your hands. “He cheated on me.” You say and a laugh escapes you, feeling silly to use the word _cheat_ , even though that’s what it was. “I’m crying over something that happened over four years ago and the sad part is, it’s not even something I didn’t know.”  
  
You sit down on the bed and Beca follows, her body in contact with yours but nothing more than her arm brushing against you.  
  
“I’m so stupid.” You say and the tears are instantly back to sting your eyes. You don’t get why you’re letting this get to you after all those years.  
  
“You’re not stupid.” Beca says calm. “He’s the one that’s stupid.”  
  
You turn to look at the woman beside you. Her eyes are focused on the wall in front of her, her fingers tapping against her thighs softly while she gulps due to your staring. You quickly turn back to face the wall as well, feeling somehow relieved to have your friend next to you.  
  
“I know it like, hurts now. But at least he’s no longer in your life and, you know, he doesn’t matter anymore."  
  
It’s cute that Beca’s trying to cheer you up. And she’s right. It hurts right now, but you’ll be fine. Tonight, tomorrow or the day after that. Ted’s actions from over four years ago won’t obstruct you in your daily life. You just have to get through the pain.  
  
You let your body fall backwards onto the bed with a heavy, tiredly sigh. Beca follows you after a beat or two, her body’s heat transferring onto you from her closeness.  
  
Now that Teddy is leaving your mind, you can only think about Beca, how she’s still here, how she hugged you just for the sake of seeking comfort, how she’s still doing just that by simply lying next to you.  
  
“It’s not fair.” You say while laughter escapes you.  
  
“What?” Beca says as if she’s missed the punchline.  
  
“You’re like, perfect.”

* * *

  
“Where’s Beca?” John asks when you come down without her later that evening.  
  
“She’s upstairs, working on her new set list.” You explain as you squeeze yourself on the couch between your parents.  
  
“Cool!” John yelps as he jumps to his feet.  
  
“John, this is our last evening all together.” You say after him, judgment in your voice and your eyebrows raised, knowing he can sense it even if he can’t see the action.  
  
“I’ll only be a second!” He yells from halfway up the stairs.  
  
You watch TV with your parents while they talk to you about life after college. Your dad suggest you move back into this house with them and though you love your parents and you love this house, you can’t say that thought excites you.  
  
You hadn’t considered it. Hadn’t even thought it was an option.  
  
Not because you’re one of those people who has a problem with moving back home after college, but simply because you would have always thought you’d have your life figured out by then. That you would know your path and move somewhere you would build on that career.  
  
But graduation is in a few months and you still have no idea what you’ll do after. You like the art classes you’ve taken so far. It hasn’t bored you yet, but you fear when they’ll come. But even without those doubts, the easiest option for you right now would be to fail a class and be a Bella for another year.  
  
Being a Bella is the only thing that has never bored you. It’s the only thing you never got tired of. It’s the thing you would be happy doing forever if only it wasn’t a college acapella group. Now, with the prospect of Beca staying in school, failing a class to be able to stay with her and your group of girls while you figure out your life seems more appealing than ever.  
  
 You wonder what would happen if you graduated this year. If you took your parents’ offer and moved back in with them. If you would have found the courage by then to choose a thing you’d do for life. You wonder if there even exists a job you’d be happy to do for five out of the seven days a week, fifty weeks a year, until you’re grey and old.  
  
You wonder how other people do it. If anyone’s able to make a decision and be happy with it for the rest of their lives or if being unhappy with your job is just a price people have to pay all over the world. If it’s simply the way things have to go.  
  
That doesn’t calm you, however. You don’t want to hate your job a few years from now.  
  
The option to stay in college definitely seems alluring at this point. You’re glad you don’t have to make a decision at this exact time.  
  
“Nice hair, Chlo.” Sarah says as she enters the room and drops down on the couch next to you, the spot your mother owned before she disappeared to make the three of you some tea. “What’s it called? Post-lesbian sex-‘do?”  
  
You quickly move your hands through your hair in an attempt to adjust it slightly, but you don’t think it’ll do anything now. Images of Beca’s body hovering over you and the electricity that’s still sparking in your weakened legs makes your cheeks turn color and you suck in your lips without looking at your sister to prevent her from noticing the truth to her words.  
  
But your sister’s gone back to texting and she hasn’t seen the changes in your face, leaving you with the remembrance of the orgasm that shot through your body approximately thirty minutes ago and the growing desire for more.  
  
Your mother enters with the hot beverages and your father laughs at a commercial, and no one seems to be aware of the dirty smile spreading over your face as you recall the state Beca pushed your body and mind in earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaat, did Chloe just succeed in her mission? ;D Let me know what you think happened!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "If we wait until we're ready, we'll be waiting for the rest of our lives." -Lemony Snicket
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this is officially the longest chapter in the story, so.. Enjoy! ;D

You had wanted to run.  
  
You had wanted to do what you did a few weeks ago.  
  
And you almost did.  
  
Almost took that first step that would no doubt lead to a second, and a third, and a fourth, out of Chloe’s childhood bedroom, out of her parents’ house. You wouldn’t know where to start, but you’d find him.  
  
You watched the tears stream over Chloe’s face, traveling from the side of her nose, over her cracked lips to her chin until they fell and hit the floor. Every, single one louder than the one before. She was quiet and so were you, but the room was in ruins and your insides in chaos.  
  
You remembered quickly the last time this happened. Where you felt helpless and angry over whatever hurt the girl. In that case, it had been a person causing her pain, so it was easy to focus on that.  
  
This time, you’re not so sure.  
  
She’s crying, yes. But she doesn’t look visibly upset other than the tears she’s trying to hide from you. She looks strangely at ease, half at peace and in pain at the same time.  
  
You have to force yourself to act fast, whatever that act may be. You do a quick fun through what you know. You know that Chloe’s very much –maybe too much- in contact with her emotions. You know that she’s shed tears over things you’ll never understand. You know she was mad when you left the room to go find Hannah after what she did. You know she wouldn’t want you to leave.  
  
You know you don’t want to leave.  
  
Your feet move and you collapse your body into hers with more force than intended, but the act was determined and you wanted to make sure she felt that.  
  
You wish you had a way with words for situations like these. Where you could at least be a normal person for once and ask her what’s wrong, ask her what happened and why she’s crying. But you’re unable to handle her current state as it is, unable to help or comfort her.  
  
You wonder if you made the right decision.  
  
If you would be more of service if you left. If her pain were to fade if you were kicking her ex-boyfriend’s ass right now. If somehow that would be better than your arms around her waist and your silence.  
  
But she hugs you back. Her breathing evens out and then she pulls away. She explains why she’s crying and you can only focus on the small smile that tugs at her lips.  
  
Maybe you did make the right decision after all.  
  
You learn the cause behind her tears and even though you think there’s more to it, you don’t pry. Instead, you let her tell you what she wants you to know. And part of you just wants to push her into the mattress and kiss her until she feels okay again, but you know you can’t do that.   
  
You can’t dismiss her feelings like that.  
  
The thing that makes Chloe Beale so beautiful, is that she feels everything so intense. You like the good parts, her excessive laughter, flirting, the girl’s cheerfulness. But you can’t just have that. It also means you have to let her feel the bad parts, the things that make her cry and hurt, even if you would do anything to keep those things away from her.  
  
So you keep your hands to yourself and you listen.  
  
“You’re like, perfect.”  
  
You can’t help the sarcastic snort that escapes you. “Beale, I came this close to leaving.” You say with your hand up in the air, your index finger and thumb barely touching for good measurement. You let your arm fall back on the bed and Chloe immediately takes advantage of the new found closeness of your hand.  
  
“But you didn’t. And I’m not just talking about now. I mean, this whole trip.” Chloe says while her thumb absentmindedly caresses the side of your index finger.  
  
“Well, pretty sure you made it fairly easy for me.” You remember how much the girl has put up with, from the way you reacted to her confession to your continuous mood swings.  
  
Chloe laughs and turns to her side to look at you. “Yes, because having to meet my entire family, hearing that I love you and having kids constantly bugging you is easy for you.”  
  
You have to swallow hard at the words she’s now used twice.  
  
“Can you just accept the compliment, Becs?”  
  
“Fine, fine. So I’m _perfect_.” You exaggerate with disgust in your voice.  
  
Chloe moves even closer and somehow ends up partially lying on top of you. Her eyes are dark and are showing a hint of lust. You wonder when she let go of the hurt to go back to her usual state of mind.  
  
“Don’t look at me like that!” You speak in a groan, annoyed that one simple look can make your body feel so heavy and aware of its parts. “I have to finish the mix I promised Kevin I’d make, and by finish I mean start, because I haven’t done anything this entire time we’ve been in Kansas. So get that sexy look off of your face, Beale.” Your right hand tries to pull your laptop case onto the bed, but that requires more muscle strength than Chloe allows you to have with her hand firmly wrapped around your wrist.  
  
“What about finishing what we started earlier?” Chloe whispers in a low voice before placing her teeth at your skin and biting your jaw.  
  
“That-“ You forget the rest of your planned sentence when her body shifts on top of you and her thigh lands between your legs. “Before, I had a weak moment.” You’re able to say when you’ve brought your mind back to focus. “We will finish that when we’re back in our own place tomorrow.”  
  
Chloe’s mouth leaves your skin, but other than that, she doesn’t move. Her eyes, still darkened, stay locked on yours until you see the hint of smugness pulling at her lips. “Alright, Becs.” She says with a huge smile. She pecks your lips before jumping off the bed. “Play me something.”  
  
You have your laptop open and ready within seconds, so instead of connecting the machine to your headphones, you let your work echo through the room.  
  
Too focused on your laptop screen and the task at hand, you hadn’t noticed Chloe going into the bathroom or exiting it again. But something pulls your attention to the girl and you feel your mouth hanging open instantly. “What are you doing?”  
  
Chloe’s crossing the room in nothing but heels and underwear you’re pretty sure wasn’t what she had on earlier, the red lace material hugging her hips and covering her chest, or at least a part of it, leaving you to almost drool at the sight. The girl jumps on her drawer and swings her legs to the music, her head dancing from side to side with her arms up to make the view perfect. “I’m dancing, Becs!” She yells over the music as if that’s the part you were questioning her about.  
  
“I see that.” You say a little too soft for the girl to hear, aware of how much you actually see.  
  
There’s a lot of skin to admire, but weird enough, your focus stays at the parts of the girl that are covered, or at least have been tried to cover up. The lingerie is see-through, exposing too much and not enough at the same time. You can see most of her chest through the material, but you can’t see the woman’s nipples, although you can easily imagine them after having seen them so many times before.  
  
Your eyes shift to where the girl’s thighs meet the fine fabric and how the underwear seems to have been made just for her. They hug her hips tightly, the holes in the material exposing the soft patches of skin that captivate you better than anything else ever could.  
  
Suddenly everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. Chloe’s still sitting on her dresser, her legs swinging back and forth, counter to each other, her body dancing, but it seems slower to you. You only now notice how your hands are gripping the sheets and you haven’t moved an inch since you’ve laid eyes on the girl.  
  
Your body feels heavy. It feels like you’ve turned to stone, unable to comprehend or act on what this girl is doing to you. You follow your friend’s movements for what feels like a few more minutes, but what is probably just a second or two, and then you’re up.  
  
You’re off the bed and on your feet. It feels like your mind is having some sort of technical malfunction, because you’re in between Chloe’s legs before you’re able to mentally grasp the fact that you’ve crossed the room.  
  
But a second later, the glitch in your head is gone and you can see things clearly. Chloe’s body on top of the drawer close to yours, your hands around the girl’s neck and you can feel her knees touching the side of your body. She’s looking at you with dark pupils, her teeth biting at her bottom lip and patiently waiting for you to lose the fight.  
  
“Fuck it.” You whisper before pulling her in by the neck and kissing her roughly. You can’t for the love of it remember why you ever said you wouldn’t have sex with this girl everywhere.  
  
Your hands slide over Chloe’s body until you’ve reached the red fabric that’s touching the places you’re eager to touch. You play with it, trying to engrave in your mind what it feels like between your fingers while lust within you grows and eventually forces you to be impatient.  
  
“Thought you wanted to wait until tomorrow, Becs.” Chloe giggles against your lips as she hooks her legs around your body and you can feel her heels digging into your butt. “Aren’t you afraid of getting kicked out? That I’m too loud?”  
  
You move your hands underneath the girl’s butt and you lift her off of the drawer to drop her on the bed with you landing on top of her. “Do you _want_ me to stop?” You groan while shoving the girl’s arms above her head and you take a second to admire the view. A gorgeous girl lying in lingerie underneath you, her lips already damaged due to your mouth and her chest heavily taking in the air.  
  
“I never want you to stop.” She flirts while her teeth bite at her bottom lip again, fully aware of what that does to you. “Besides, this just means I’ve won.” She says arrogant as she lifts the shirt off of your body and you unbutton your own pants while you’re at it.  
  
“I don’t know.” You say doubting, your eyes wandering unashamed over the girl’s body before you let your hands help. One travels upwards while the other moves south, pinching and scratching skin where you can, making the girl underneath you squirm with your actions. “I think I might be the real winner here.” You say confident as the girl’s moans fuel you.  
  
Your hand reaches the underwear and you slip underneath it easily, your two fingers sliding between Chloe’s folds in an attempt to tease her, but the girl’s hips jerk up at the touch and chase your fingers, wetting your index and middle finger almost entirely.  
  
Now that you’re aware that she doesn’t need teasing, you accept her offer and set up a pace. _One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four._ A pace she has trouble following and she eventually settles for just rolling her hips at the second and fourth count.  
  
After a few minutes, the girl even struggles at that speed and by the time she just arches into you at the fourth count, you know exactly what that means and it makes you work even faster until the girl’s body freezes underneath you and you have to kiss her hard to be able to swallow away her cries that would otherwise bounce around the entire house.  
  
Chloe’s legs still twitch, her hips and thighs spasm and her body’s still tensed, but you just massage her through her high until the muscles underneath your hand start to loosen up again and they reinstate the access you had to the girl earlier.  
  
This time you start at a slower pace while you work your mouth over Chloe’s chest and neck. It’s not until she’s able to kiss you back that you move the hand between her legs a little faster. She moans and pants and begs, for nothing specific, but you understand her request. You push through the aching muscles in your lower arm, -and the aching muscles between your own legs- until you’ve pushed the girl over the edge again.  
  
“Jesus, Beca.” It’s all she’s able to say after her body collapses on the bed again.  
  
She’s beautiful, you think to yourself. The way she’s lying there, exhausted and worn out, with her hands tangled in her own hair while she tries to get her breathing evened out. _Beautiful_.  
  
You connect your mouth to the girl’s exposed and stretched out neck while your hand pushes once again against her walls, but Chloe works fast and before you know it, you’re the one on their back while your friend hovers over you with a predatory smile plastered to her face. You don’t mind being the prey in this situation.  
  
She flips her hair to one side while she studies your face. “My turn.” Chloe says as she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. Her eyes stay on you as she places herself between your legs. You lift yourself up by your elbows to watch, but as soon as she makes contact with you, you lose all control over your muscles and you fall back into the mattress, fully surrendered and handed over to Chloe.  
  
It doesn’t take long until you feel the hot blood rising from your feet to your thighs and it swims through your stomach before pleasure drops lower and lower and eventually takes over completely.  
  
Chloe’s mouth connects to every bit of skin on your torso while you try to regain yourself. By the time you do and you open your eyes, she’s right in front of you, smiling devilishly and satisfied before she kisses you softly.  
  
“Why didn’t we do that three days ago?” You pant when Chloe allows you to breathe.  
  
The girl just laughs while her forehead rest against yours. “You tell me, Beca.” She whispers smug.  
  
You stay in bed with Chloe on top of you for a little while longer until she tells you she’ll leave you to work and she gets dressed to spend her last night of the vacation with her family. Since you really do need to have at least one mix ready for Kevin, you stay behind in the room with your headphones on and you tell yourself to hurry, so you can join your friend downstairs.  
  
Except you’re disturbed by Chloe’s brother only minutes after she’s left, preventing you from completing your work as fast as you normally would, because he’s asking questions and wants you to explain to him what it is you do exactly.  
  
John’s annoying, but you’re also appreciative of his interest in your work, so you let him stay and watch while you mix.  
  
“Can I try?” John asks after watching you for several minutes.  
  
“You wanna mix?” You ask suspicious, but the boy nods and stretches his arms, so you hand him the equipment and let him have a go at it.  
  
He turns out surprisingly okay. He was awful at his first try, but he picks up quick, he listens when you give him advice and he works with that.  
  
“That is so much harder than it looks.” John says as he hands you back the laptop. “But it’s awesome!”  
  
“Yeah, you’re quite good, dude.” You say as you work fast to adjust some things here and there in his mix and then you let him hear it, explaining what you did to make it sound better.  
  
“Wow, that is sick! You’re really good at that.”  
  
“Mind if I use it for my set list?” You ask and the boy turns into a human bouncing ball within the blink of an eye. Before you can register what’s happening, he throws his arms around you and skips out of the room.  
  
You didn’t mean anything by it. He just picked the right songs and you think they could sound good together.  
  
You pick up with what you were working on before the guy interrupted you. A new set list for next weekend. Kevin has been bugging you for new tracks for a few weeks now and you know it’s time, because December is arriving soon and every DJ knows what that means. It’s possibly the biggest non-competition of the year; the fight for New Year’s Eve.  
  
Kevin told you about the man who got the gig last year. Apparently some important people saw him play and it launched his career. It’s literally a make or break moment for the person who gets it. And even though you consider Kevin more of a friend than a boss, you know he’s fair and honest and he won’t give you that night if there’s someone better or if he thinks you aren’t up for it.  
  
Which is why you have to show him you are.  
  
Kevin has great DJs working for him, but he also knows a lot of people from other clubs who would love to play the New Year’s Eve show in his club. It’s kind of the event of the year for Kevin’s club. Apparently, there’s even a guest list and you can’t come in unless you’re on that. It’s this huge happening and Kevin has talked about it excessively and happily.  
  
So it’s not just about you beating the other DJs and getting to play on a night like that, it’s also to make Kevin proud of you and help him make it the best New Year’s Eve ever.  
  
But you’d have to work for it. You have to earn it. And you want to earn it, but you just can’t seem to concentrate right now. Music has always been about beats and flows to you. About the way a song builds and how it progresses. About timing and precision. About everything measurable within music.  
  
_So why are you paying attention to the lyrics right now?  
_  
Lyrics never meant anything to you. They are unimportant aspects of a song. Surely, you are aware of them and you can work with them, as much as possible. You can speed them up, cut them in pieces, loop them, slice them, crush them. You can do anything you want with them. But you just never really notice words in a song, never care about them, never _feel_ anything for them.  
  
Now, in search of songs to use, you only hear words being sung while beats fall to the background. They remind you of Chloe. Even though the songs contain details you have never experienced with your friend, they still make you think of her.  
  
_God, you’re stupid.  
_  
You’re a DJ. You can’t just ignore beats and trade them for dumb words with no meaning. You try to justify it with the fact that you’ve just been intimate with her and she’s still on your mind, but you don’t know if that excuses it all.  
  
Chloe’s been finding her way into your mind more and more by the day. Especially during this small vacation, where you’ve had minimum time apart from her. That made it easy to ignore the fact that she’s on your mind so much, but it truly hits you now.  
  
Nothing has ever distracted you from doing your work. Chloe hasn’t even been able to do that while being in the room, the only exception being her in heels and lingerie earlier this evening, but now she’s doing that from a distance.  
  
Although you don’t know if that’s true. She has distracted you from mixing before. A simple glance as she would enter your peripheral vision, a roll of the eyes as you felt her smiling at you. She has been able to take your eye off of your work before, but never to this extent. Never to the point where you couldn’t focus anymore.  
  
You don’t know how to feel about that. You don’t know how you feel about anything regarding Chloe, actually.  
  
But you’re not running out the door. You’re not fleeing the state or doing anything to push this girl away from you, even though she’s inhumanly close. You think that’s a good sign, despite the fear you feel over staying with her, you couldn’t possibly see yourself walking away from that girl.  
  
Whatever that means, you’ll figure out later. First, you have to finish this damn set list.  
  


* * *

  
  
Your plan to work for an hour and then join Chloe and her family downstairs has flown out the window the moment you let your mind wander into the direction of you and your friend.  
  
So lost in thoughts, you hadn’t even seen the girl come into the room. Which is inexcusable since you’ve placed yourself on the floor literally facing the entrance of the girl’s old bedroom, but somehow your eyes are glued to the screen while your mind is a million miles away, not able to register anything that’s happening outside of your head.  
  
“Who came in here and stole your candy?” Chloe asks as she places herself next to you and rests her head on your shoulder.  
  
“What?” You say confused as you remove the headphones from their place.  
  
“You look like an angry five year old, Becs.” Chloe giggles as she shifts, her body slightly turned towards you, her knees pushed together and her arms pressed to her chest, her hands holding onto each other while lying cutely underneath her face as she looks at you.  
  
You feel something flutter through your chest and because of the time you’ve just spent thinking about the girl, you have a hard time ignoring the feeling.  
  
You look back at your laptop screen and you’re reminded of your incapacity tonight. You don’t even have five decent songs and you’re not at all happy with the ones you have. You rub your eyes in annoyance while you feel Chloe’s hand traveling over your abdomen.  
  
“That bad?”  
  
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I can’t seem to focus.” You say honestly and annoyed at yourself.  
  
“Maybe you’re coming down with something. You haven’t been feeling well, right?” Chloe’s hand disappears from your stomach and a fraction of a second later, you feel her on your forehead, then at your right cheek before she moves back to your forehead.  
  
“I’m fine.” You mutter, but you don’t move you head away from her touch.  
  
You have been feeling off, for sure. But now that you’ve started to listen to thoughts you’ve been suppressing for too long, you’re not sold it’s the flu you’ve caught.  
  
You’ve been having trouble sleeping, your stomach’s been aching at times and you haven’t been eating as much as you usually do. The exception being the Thanksgiving dinner, because nothing could stop you from devouring  that food.  
  
When you look into Chloe’s ice blue eyes, you think you’ve found the bacteria behind your infection, the aggressor to your health, the root of your illness.  
  
“You should try again tomorrow.” Chloe says as she picks up your laptop and puts it on the floor next to her, throwing her legs over the now empty space on your lap. “Maybe you’ll feel better by then.”  
  
_You doubt it.  
_  
“Maybe.” You say instead, your hand trailing over the girl’s thigh while you wonder if you should say something. You wouldn’t even know what to say, but you wonder if you should.  
  
Usually _, or ninety-nine per cent of the time_ , Chloe’s the one that’s able to communicate her feelings with you. She does so, sometimes with her words –very confronting words-, and sometimes with just her smile or her eyes.  
  
And though there’s been a lot of new information shared from Chloe’s side during this stay in Kansas, she hasn’t initiated _the_ conversation yet. You’ve learned she loves you. You’ve learned the deal you made is gone. You’ve learned she doesn’t want anyone but you, whatever the hell she means with that.  
  
You’ve learned a lot, except for what it is you have with your friend. And you would expect Chloe to be the first one to bring that up, and you think she would if she’d have the same revelation you had tonight, but it seems perhaps you’ve beaten her to it.  
  
So now you’re left with the question if you should start that conversation. What would you even say? What would you even want?  
  
Well, you want her. It took you a few months, but you’ve finally figured that one out.  
  
She’s gorgeous. That’s something you had known from the first time you laid eyes on her. But she’s also smart as hell, she’s passionate, compassionate, kind and honest. Her positivity radiates off of her like a light bulb in a dark room. And you don’t know how you used to get through the day without that light bulb, but you don’t think you can go without it from this day forward.  
  
You don’t think you want to.  
  
“You’ll get it done, Becs. Even the best have bad days. I bet even that Martin Ferrix guy has days he can’t function.”  
  
“Garrix. Martin Garrix.” You correct while laughter escapes you. You appreciate her words, though. You had been quiet for a while, she must’ve thought you were thinking about your work.  
  
_If only she knew.  
_

* * *

  
  
You spend the rest of the late evening with the girl’s parents and siblings in the living room. There are board games and snacks, and it’s kind of an alright night. You team up with the men of the family, but it turns out Mr. Beale is awful at Monopoly and you end up losing to Mrs. Beale and her daughters.  
  
John starts to blame you for losing due to lack of competitivity, which is not the case. You played fierce and you don’t like to lose, but perhaps you could have been a bit harder on Chloe instead of turning a blind eye whenever she landed on one of yours.  
  
It was fun, because she knew what you were doing, so she’d look up to you with that superior smile but with eyes that search your soul. Her face grew hypnotizing and you decided to sacrifice the game for a chance of getting put in a trance state like that every round.  
  
“It’s not Beca’s fault!” Sarah stands up for you.   
  
“She was simply distracted.” Lucy says as she rests her head on Chloe’s shoulder while Sarah copies the action and takes the other one. The three of them look charming, teasing and smug, but nonetheless adorable. Instead of joining the conversation, you keep your silence while studying your friend’s face attentively. You don’t care if it makes the two sisters laugh. You only care about the smile spreading over Chloe’s face.  
  
“I know she checked her phone twice, but that’s not what made us lose the game. She should’ve played tougher.” John says devastated.  
  
A second of silence passes before the three girls all burst out in laughter and even you can’t help but smile over the ignorance and innocence of this boy. “I could throw something through the window?” You pitch to heal John’s pain.  
  
“We’d prefer you didn’t.” The parents speak in sync while entering the living room with even more drinks and snacks.  
  
“Another round?” John asks hopeful, but the sisters all start to whine and scatter out.   
  
Chloe hugs her mother and father and you know what cue that is.  
  
“Beca?” John speaks surprised as you, too, rise to your feet.  
  
“Sorry, dude. That was three hours of my life I am never getting back.”  
  
Mr. Beale tells you to have a good night’s rest for the long trip back tomorrow and Mrs. Beale whispers she’ll make some more chocolate chip cookies in the morning, to which Sarah and Lucy yell their disagreement from the top of the stairs.  
  
You follow Chloe up the stairs, and this time you’re the one who gets to look smug at the girls.  
  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
  
“You totally let me win.” You tell Beca when you’ve made it up the stairs with her and you’ve passed your sisters who looked slightly angry at your friend and her cookie deal with your mother.  
  
“I didn’t. Technically, we lost because your dad threw a four where we needed either a three or a five.” Beca says matter-of-factly, but her lips tuck at her straightened smile and you can see that she’s enjoying it.  
  
Instead of entering your room, you rest against the whole of the door and examine Beca’s face. She looks peaceful and carefree, the opposite of how you found her in the room a few hours ago. The wrinkle in her forehead so deep, you thought it might implode on itself because of the pressure it was under. She was visibly annoyed over the fact that she couldn’t get her work done, which you understand. Beca is a perfectionist when it comes to her mixes.   
  
What you don’t get is why she’s no longer agitated. You had figured that would last a little longer. Maybe even until she would get her work done.  
  
“What’s gotten into you?” You ask the girl in front of you who doesn’t even seem to mind standing out here instead of entering the room. She’s just patiently waiting.  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“You’re so calm.”  
  
Beca simply shrugs, the way you’ve come to know so well, yet it still makes you smile. You open the door you were leaning against and allow yourself and your friend inside.  
  
“I’m gonna give Aubrey a call.” You say as you search through your phone for her name and number.  
  
“Then I’m going to be anywhere but here.” Beca states with a sly smile before throwing a towel over her shoulder and going through her bag to look for clean clothes.  
  
Your phone connects with Aubrey before Beca’s been able to leave the room, and you immediately spot a perfect eye roll as your best friend’s voice appears loudly out of the phone in hand.  
  
“Beca’s here, too. Becs, say hi.”  
  
Beca tries to silently sneak past you to disappear into the bathroom, but you’re able to beat her to the door and you keep a stretched arm out until she caves.  
  
“Hey, Coach. How’s camping?” Beca speaks forced with a death glare thrown at you. You just smile brightly back at your friend who obeyed your request.  
  
“We’re not camping, Beca. It’s a luxurious cabin in Tennessee. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the difference.”  
  
Beca’s eyebrows drop low in confusion as her mouth slowly opens to respond to the insult, but instead of having the two of them fight over the phone, you quickly push Beca into your bathroom. “Okay, Beca’s gonna shower now. Say bye!” You drag the final word out until Beca’s angry face is hidden behind the closed door and you drop down on your bed with the phone resting on your chest while you talk to your best friend.  
  
Aubrey went to Tennessee with Stacie over the Thanksgiving break. They rented a cabin in a park and have spent a few days there. She tells you about the park and the things the couple did over there, and it honestly sounds great but you’re currently more interested in the running water you can hear from a few feet away and who’s standing underneath it.  
  
“Tell me about Kansas. How did Beca ruin Thanksgiving? Let me guess, there was at least one physical fight.”  
  
You snort and laugh at your best friend’s words. “No, it’s been great. My parents love her, Luce and Sarah adore her, I think John has a weird, friendly obsession with her, but-“  
  
“ _David_ likes her?” Aubrey interrupts you, questioning your words for sincerity.  
  
“Yeah, he’s crazy about her. They get along great.”  
  
“And there have been no fights?”  
  
“No, Bree!” You say slightly insulted but with a laugh nonetheless. “The only thing she’s been messing with is my head.” You confess with the notion that the water is still running and Beca’s unable to hear you.  
  
You talk about Beca for a while and Aubrey’s supportive, but also hesitant. She still thinks the worst of your friend, no matter what great words you spill over her.  
  
When the water gets cut off, you change the topic to just your family and your days back in Kansas. You tell her you’ve run into Ted, but you keep the details to yourself.  
  
Beca reenters the room in sweatpants and a shirt, her wet hair a few shades darker than it usually is as it stains the fresh shirt she has on.  
  
“Still?!” Beca hisses as she drops down next to you and sighs when you shrug, all the while Aubrey continues to talk, unaware of whatever’s happening.  
  
Your best friend chats on about something. With Beca next to you, it’s easy to get distracted. Especially when the girl in question is aware of that and uses that to her advantage.  
  
Beca bites your earlobe, then your jaw until she moves on to your neck. It makes you giggle, but you can still manage to talk to your best friend, nothing more than agreeing words, because Aubrey does most of the work.  
  
It gets harder to control yourself when Beca takes the phone from your chest and replaces it on your pillow. She moves on top of you, still kissing and biting your neck while her hands sneak under your shirt.  
  
You try to push the girl off of you, or at least get some distance between her mouth and your skin, because controlling yourself gets harder and harder to do.  
  
“Beca, stop it.” You whisper quietly, but you don’t sound all too convincing and you know it.  
  
“Hang up the phone.” Beca whispers back before capturing your lips with her own, kissing you slow and passionately, her hands heating up your ribs underneath your shirt.  
  
“Chlo? What’s going on?”  
  
Suspicion raises Aubrey’s voice and you’re quick to pull away from Beca. “What do you mean, Bree?” You say innocently as you run your fingers over your wet lips, earning a smirk from Beca at the act.  
  
“Don’t act stupid with me, Chlo. You can’t fool me. Is Beca in the room?”  
  
“No!” You don’t know what causes you to lie, but you can already tell it’s not very convincing.  
  
“She is. I can’t believe you’re making out with _her_ while you’re on the phone with me. You called me, Chloe!”  
  
You try your hardest not to let a laugh escape, your lips sucked into your mouth and your eyes pressed closed, but it’s just too funny.  
  
“At least I had the decency to ask Stacie to give me a minute. We will be talking about this tomorrow, Chlo.”  
  
The call ends after that and you’re relieved you can finally let go. Beca and you burst out in laughter at the exact same time.  
  
“Wait, hold on. Does she know?” Beca asks while taking her original spot next to you on the bed.  
  
You completely forgot Beca doesn’t know you told Aubrey about your deal and even a little more than that. “It slipped me once.” You say apologetic, your eyes searching Beca’s, but she seems relaxed.  
  
“I guess it’s a surprise you didn’t slip up more.” Beca scoffs.  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You act insulted.  
  
“Nothing! Just that you talk a lot, you know. Like, all the time. You never stop.”  
  
In one subtle move, you take a hold of one of the pillows on your bed to smack it into your friend’s face. Apparently, she saw it coming and she jumps off the bed before you’re able to get a hit.  
  
“Don’t be rude!” Beca chuckles with her index finger pointed at you, her dark eyes glitter with joy.  
  
You shake your head and you feel the need to hide your face in your hands, because Beca smiling and acting adorable does things to you, both visibly to your face as inside of your chest.   
  
“Oh, cool!” Beca yelps as she jumps back onto the bed with a deck of cards in hand. “Wanna play?” She asks, but her hands have already started to shuffle them, so you don’t think you have much of a choice.  
  
“Are you wanna let me win again?” You stretch out your leg to be able to poke her with your foot from across the bed.  
  
“I’m gonna kick your ass.”  
  
You play a series of different games and Beca wasn’t wrong. She’s been mercilessly beating you in every round of every game. Right now, you’re forced to watch her greedy hands try to slide all the poker chips towards her side of the bed.  
  
“Okay, what’s next?” The girl in question asks contently, all of the game’s chips resting around her legs and some held tight in her hands.  
  
“I don’t wanna play anymore.” You pout in annoyance. You liked it when Beca let you win, but card games were never your strong suit and you’re being slaughtered here. You should have picked another fun activity for the night.  
  
“Oh, come on. I didn’t catch you for a sore loser.” Beca says with a satisfied and growing grin on her face. “Actually, now that I think about it.. Yeah, you totally do.”  
  
“No one likes to lose.” You mumble while your hands pull at the sheets underneath you.  
  
“But you do it so well.” Beca’s voice sounds teasing and when you look up, she even throws you a wink. Who knew your friend had a flirty side to her? Apparently it only comes out at card games.  
  
Beca starts to shuffle the cards and she places two cards, open, in front of you while she keeps one of hers closed. “Fine, but can we at least make this a little more fun?” Yours show a six and five, so you tap your index and middle finger to the mattress.  
  
“I don’t know, Beale. I’m already having a lot of fun.” Beca’s smile is huge and annoying, but nonetheless beautiful. She puts another card openly next to yours and a red King breaks you.  
  
You keep eye contact with the girl in front of you as you remove the shirt from your body, watching Beca’s face lose its satisfaction and pride with the drop of her jaw.  
  
“Oh, _that_ kind of fun.” She laughs when her eyes finally find yours.  
  
You just hum and wait for the next hand. This time, you play more clever and take notion of Beca’s open card as well. It’s a four of clubs, so you move your hand horizontally at the dealer’s raised eyebrow to which she turns her card and shows a queen of hearts. Her next one is what kills her and you end up winning with only fifteen points.  
  
“Beginner’s luck.” Beca downplays as she removes her socks.  
  
“Boring.” You wink at her choice of clothing.  
  
You didn’t start this game to lose, so you keep your focus. Which is easier for you to do, because you’re not really distracted by Beca’s naked feet. Beca, on the other hand, has trouble keeping her eyes off of you.  
  
Beca loses the next round, too. She rolls her eyes excessively while pushing the new sweatpants down her ankles until it drops to the floor. Instead of showing off her legs, she hides them underneath her body and sits on top of them.  
  
Unfortunately, you got cocky and couldn’t settle for an eighteen in cards. Beca’s eyes drop to your pants, but you don’t like to be predictable. You unclasp your bra with just one hand while the other takes ahold of the free item and you dramatically hang it above the floor before dropping it.  
  
When you find Beca’s eyes, they’re glued to your chest and your confidence level grows by the second. By the time she notices your eyes, she’s already blushing and she starts coughing to cover that up, making you laugh at the scene.  
  
“I’m still winning!” She says in her defense as she regains herself. “And by the way, normal people lose the pants before the bra.”  
  
“Since when do we do anything normal, Becs?” You flirt back.  
  
Another round starts and Beca forgets to leave one of her cards closed, so she has to begin again with embarrassed cheeks heating up. The following time goes better, but she doesn’t even check her hand, instead her focus stays with you.  
  
She doesn’t see your fingers tapping  on the mattress and she starts cleaning up the round without even having turned her own card. When you remind her of that, she awkwardly stumbles and puts the cards back in place to show she actually won.  
  
“Good job, Becs.” You say proud as you rise to your knees to unbutton your pants.  
  
Beca flies from her opposite position on the bed to where you’re placed, her hands both wrap around your wrists to prevent you from succeeding in your plans. “Don’t.” She pleads softly.  
  
“Don’t what? We’re playing a game and you’re winning.”  
  
“I can’t win here.” Beca whines before falling to her back on the bed. “I surrender.” She cries out with her hands up above her head.  
  
Your hands fall in contact with her naked thighs, the attraction impossible to ignore like two magnets in near range of each other. “Technically, you can’t surrender, Becs. You’re the dealer.” You push yourself between Beca’s legs and hover over her body to be able to watch how adorably flustered she looks from up close.  
  
“I don’t care. You win.”  
  
“I what?”  
  
“You win.”  
  
You softly peck Beca’s lips once and you immediately feel her fingers scratching over your hips and upwards on your body. “I like to win.” You tilt your head the other way and kiss her lips again.  
  
Beca’s hands make their way onto your chest and she rolls your nipples between her fingers at the exact same time. “I do, too.” She speaks, her voice low and raw.  
  
Your mouths connect again and Beca switches your positions, her leg landing between yours and pressing against your center instantly. Even with the denim there, electricity shoots through your body right away and you can’t stop the moan from leaving your mouth.  
  
Beca’s index finger pushes against your lips in an attempt to shut you up, but the noise is already being thrown back by the walls of the room. “Damn it, Beale. I knew I couldn’t trust you.” Beca says with fake anger as her lips tuck in joy.  
  
“It’s your fault.” You declare matter-of-factly as you slip your hands underneath Beca’s shirt to scratch her shoulder blades.  
  
“Oh, it is? It’s my fault?” Beca’s eyes grow wide and her tongue sticks out between her teeth. “Because I didn’t know that this-“ She pushes her thigh harder into you and again you’re unable to prevent the vibration in your throat to exit your mouth. “-causes _that_.”  
  
Beca’s smile is annoyingly arrogant, but cute at the same time. Still, you have to wipe that off of her face. “I think you know exactly what you do to me.” You lift your hips off the bed and push yourself against the length of her thigh, exaggeratingly sighing and panting at the action.  
  
“Oh my God, are you serious right now?”  
  
Beca’s hovering over you and doesn’t move her body, so you continue to ride her leg and massage your own breasts while breathing extremely heavy. “Oh, Beca, yes, right there, yes, yes!”  
  
“I fucking hate you so much.” Beca snorts and shakes her head above you, but she keeps her eyes on you, following every movement of your hands and hips.  
  
You continue to make ridiculous sounds and Beca continues to laugh at you until you also can’t keep it together anymore.  
  
“Don’t stop now, I was just getting into it.” Beca jokes as she pins your hands to the bed above your head.  
  
“Yeah, does that turn you on?” You feel lust and desire take over once again.  
  
“I mean..” Beca says doubtful as she rolls her eyes to the side, but you don’t allow her any more amusement or sarcasm as you crash your lips into hers, hungrily and ready.  
  
She still tastes like the salty potato chips she had earlier tonight.  
  
The remaining clothes finally disappear and meet the rest of the items on the floor. The moaning continues throughout the rest of the night, but they are muffled, obstructed by Beca’s hand or shoulder or any other skin you can sink your teeth in when pleasure fires through your body _over_ and _over_ and _over_ again.  
  


* * *

  
  
Approximately every seven minutes, you had wanted to bring it up. It burnt the tip of your tongue, as heavy as it laid there for the entire car ride home.

You had known it from the moment you woke up that day. Today was going to be the day you were gonna tell Beca how you feel.

You were choosing the right time while you were in the shower that morning, but Beca came in and joined you and you were.. distracted, to say the least.  
  
The rest of the morning was spent with your family, so that wasn’t going to work either. The car ride seemed like a good idea at the time. There wouldn’t be anyone but you two and there would be enough time. But then the thought popped up that perhaps Beca wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings and you would be stuck in a car with her for multiple, awkward hours.  
  
You also wouldn’t want her to feel trapped in that car.  
  
You didn’t want her to feel like she _had_ to have that conversation with you. If she wasn’t ready, she couldn’t easily get up and go. You’d want her to at least feel comfortable in a conversation like the one you’re planning to have, and you don’t think she would feel good about it in a small, moving vehicle.  
  
The car ride was also dismissed after that realization and you decided to wait until you got back to campus.  
  
The ride home wasn’t awkward. You still chatted Beca’s ears numb and there was singing and teasing, like there always is when you’re around her. But it was like there was a giant, dark cloud surrounding your being, hugging you like a blanket, causing your laughs to sound fake and your smiles to hurt. You knew you wouldn’t get rid of that cloud until you got the heavy words off of your chest.  
  
Watching Beca walk through the door to your shared college dorm room was like a weight being lifted from your shoulders. You feel relieved, finally free from the chains you put on your mouth for ten hours or perhaps even longer than that.  
  
“Beca, I think we should talk.”  
  
The words fall out of your mouth, but it doesn’t take the heavy stones in your stomach with them. Beca, who’s laying on her stomach on the bed, doesn’t even seem to notice what conversation you’re on the verge of starting.  
  
“Now? We’ve just spent ten hours in a car together, Beale. I’m tired of you.” Beca mumbles through the sheets as she buries her head in a pillow.  
  
You walk over to the bed, not even finding her joke funny right now. Although it is, you just can’t bring yourself to laugh about it. You’re too nervous. You can’t remember many moments where you felt anxious over the words you were about to say. You don’t think you’ve ever been nervous about expressing feelings. You do it so easy, every day, sometimes towards numerous people.  
  
But you know by now that Beca isn’t like everyone else.  
  
And that might scare you, but you won’t let that stop you. You won’t hold back a part of who you are, or tiptoe around her, just because she might not respond in the way other people do. But you’ve also learned from the last time you blurted out a series of words she wasn’t prepared for.  
  
You’re going to do this, but now you’re just left wondering how to start this.  
  
“Hey. That was a joke. No need for that sad face.”  
  
You hadn’t realized you’d placed yourself on Beca’s bed, just like you hadn’t realized the girl turned on her back to speak to you, too lost in your own head to take notice of these things. For lack of any responsive words, you smile and place yourself on Beca’s lap just to feel a sense of closeness.  
  
Beca’s hands automatically seem to fall to your thighs that are resting on either side of the girl. It calms your nerves to know that you’re not the only one seeking contact.  
  
“I just thought it’s time we had a talk.”  
  
Beca’s eyebrows lift playfully before her lips curl into a smile. “You couldn’t have thought of this in the ten hours we were in a car together?” Her fingers absentmindedly trail over the skin just above your knees, drawing circles in opposite directions from each other.  
  
“I didn’t wanna make you feel trapped.” You say almost shyly, or as close as you can get to a state of embarrassment.  
  
“So you pin me to a bed instead?” Beca’s smile is intoxicating and you can’t help but laugh. “I think I had more personal space in that car, Beale.”  
  
You lean down and kiss the girl you indeed have trapped underneath you. If whatever you’re planning goes south, at least you’ll have the remembrance of her lips on yours and you’ll be able to find peace with whatever happens.  
  
Beca’s right hand moves to the back of your neck to prevent you from pulling back and she even arches off the bed a little for better access. “We don’t have to talk about this, you know.” She whispers against your lips before going back to kiss you.  
  
You have to pull back. You take your previous position on her lap, Beca’s distracting lips far out of your reach, but you’re in need of contact, so you let your hands rest on her abdomen. When you find Beca’s eyes, it’s hard to begin something that could mean the end of what you have with her right now. You have to bite your bottom lip hard to prevent anything from slipping past while you reconsider your decision one last time.  
  
“Okay, you’re freaking me out.” Beca says, but she lacks the concern to match her words. She’s still smiling and her eyes are following your every move. You’re starting to think she’s enjoying you in this specific condition.  
  
“I like you.”  
  
The words have left your mouth in an attempt to slap the smug smile off of your friend, but now that you’ve heard them echo through the room, you can’t bring yourself to watch Beca’s reaction, scared of what her face might be showing right now. Instead, you do what’s the only thing you can do in this situation and you throw the chains and barriers out of the room.  
  
“I like you, Beca. You’re only eighteen, but you have it all figured out and you work so hard to accomplish your dreams. You’re amazing and beautiful and hardheaded, you never rely on anyone for anything. There’s probably nothing you can’t do if you set your mind to it. You’re independent and strong and, _beautiful_.”  
  
You hear Beca laugh and you have absolutely no control in your eyes snapping up to see where the sound came from. The girl seems strangely relaxed, slightly flustered, but nothing that tells you to stop.  
  
“And I think you like me, too. And we already determined that the deal we made no longer applies to us. I’m not saying we have to _be_ anything, but we could figure it out. Wouldn’t it be great if we could label what we have?”  
  
Beca smiles, not at you specifically, but across the room as her eyes dart around. When they finally meet yours, they don’t tell you much. Just that she’s still here.  
  
But Beca doesn’t say anything as she keeps her eyes on you. As if she’s waiting for you to continue, but your thoughts are racing and you don’t think you’d make sense if you started talking right now. “You don’t think so?” You simply ask again, but Beca just shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips in the process.  
  
You’d start to panic if it wasn’t for Beca’s relaxed muscles underneath you and her positive facial features. “Beca, can you please just say something?” Your voice sounds slightly shaking, which you try to hide with a laugh exiting your dry throat. You run your hands up Beca’s stomach and you try to calm yourself down with the simple fact that she’s still here with you and if this truly scared her, she would have been gone by now.  
  
“I told you I don’t think we should be talking about this.”  
  
“Why? Do you not feel the same way?” You have to fight hard to swallow the lump in your throat back to nonexistence.  
  
“No.” Beca says with a small scoff as she pushes her body off the mattress and meets you in a seated position, her hands leaving your skin to be placed behind her to be able to keep her body up.   
  
You let your arms fall around Beca’s neck in lack of better and maybe more appropriate places to put your hands in a situation where you’re currently being dumped. Or, not dated. Rejected, perhaps.  
  
“Because I _do_ feel the same way.” Beca shrugs and kisses your lips before you can even process what she’s just said. “Which is why this conversation is useless and I could really use some sleep.” The girl falls back to the bed and rubs tiredly at her eyes, her legs shifting underneath you to try and push you off in her attempt to get some rest.  
  
“Wait, what?” It’s all you can say. Your mind is repeating the words your friend has said, but it feels like you’re missing pieces and you need her to clarify. Your hands start to poke the girl’s ribs when she doesn’t respond, which causes her to groan in annoyance and eventually she works her way out from under you. Fearful of where those feet will take her, you can’t help but jump off the bed as well and watch her leave. “Beca, what’s going on?”  
  
“Well, if I’m not getting some sleep, I need something to stay awake.” The girl throws the refrigerator closed with her foot while cracking open a can of her favorite energy drink.  
  
For once, you wish Beca would try and explain herself through her words. She stops in front of you, a hand reached out to you with the can in a grip, but you decline with a shake of the head. You could understand possibly any reaction from this girl, but this calmness that surrounds Beca throughout the room after you’ve explicitly told her you like her is something you have trouble grasping.  
  
“I don’t understand. Can you please explain what just happened?” You ask with your hands pressed to either side of your face, trying to hide a desperate laugh over how this has turned out.  
  
“Well, it’s simple.” Beca says as she pushes herself to the front of her feet and kisses your lips. The sour taste of the drink she’s just had roams through your mouth, reminding you of the couch syrup you had when you were a kid. You wonder how anyone can like something that tastes like that.   
  
Then Beca pulls back and drops back down on her bed, taking another gulp of her drink before finally meeting your questioning eye.  
  
“We just started dating.” Beca says composed and borderline indifferent, but her eyes show that feather-light sparkle and her lips tuck upwards and spread into a huge smile the longer you stare at her.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "I want to be with you, it is as simple, and as complicated as that." -Charles Bukowski
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit guys, I don't know what I like more; these two nerds finally getting together or y'all going crazy over it haha!
> 
> (That's me weirdly thanking you guys for the support..)

There’s most likely only one thing better than a nervous Beale, and that’s a speechless Beale.  
  
After coming to terms with the feelings you had ignored for so long, it was easier to let yourself go around Chloe. It felt relieving to know you didn’t have to hold back or analyze your actions anymore. So after doing exactly that, letting yourself run free, in your last night in Kansas and the morning as well, you had figured you’d bring it up casually during the car ride home.  
  
Chloe wasn’t visibly different. She cheerfully talked about her family and she was buzzed with excitement to see the Bellas again, but there was something in those intervals between her rants. Something small that you caught in her eyes and her moving fingers.  
  
She was nervous.  
  
It was too adorable for you to put a stop to it, so you decided you weren’t going to ruin her proposal. And in the meantime, you could enjoy your friend being nervous over expressing feelings, which you don’t think you will ever witness again.  
  
You were surprised though when she said she wanted to talk only seconds after entering your dorm room. Suddenly, she had found her strength, but you weren’t about to make it easy on the girl.  
  
You like to make her sweat.  
  
But Chloe explained why she kept her silence about this topic in the car and it pulled at your heart strings, _or whatever was happening in your chest_.  
  
 “We don’t have to talk about this, you know.” You had spoken softly against the girl’s lips in an attempt to tell her there’s no need for this talk. Of course that didn’t stop the girl. She’s a big fan of verbal confirmation, you’ve learned that much.  
  
You didn’t really feel the need to talk about this. It’s been quite clear. This trip to Kansas has weakened yourself in regards to Chloe, but it has made the feelings -you probably had for her for a while- only stronger.  
  
You let her ramble on for a bit, teasing her with your silence, until despair was visible in her eyes the moment you got off the bed. Perhaps even panic flew by her face, but it was gone the second you locked eyes with her.  
  
“I don’t understand. Can you please explain what just happened?”  
  
Chloe’s words were spoken in a laugh, but her red cheeks and desperation in her eyes made you cave.  
  
“Well, it’s simple. We just started dating.”  
  
Chloe’s nerves were like fuel to your vehicle, you could see it fill up your tank of confidence and lift yourself into this assertive position. Perhaps there were alarm bells going off, symbols on your dashboard turning red and lights demanding to be checked, but all you were paying attention to was that little, red line indicating your tank was full and overflowing. A simple spark could ignite a fire that would put your whole machine out, but somehow you doubt you’d mind that damage.  
  
Those bold words led to you currently watching a dumbstruck Beale, her eyebrows slightly raised, her lips parted as if she’ll speak, but no words exiting her mouth. It is hypnotizing, the way her face adjusts little by little with the news, the way she licks her lips, eyes darting around the room in confusion as she tries to form words. Finally, she snorts and inhales deeply. “We’re dating as of right now?”  
  
“Well, technically as of five minutes ago. You’ve been standing there for quite some time.” You mock the girl, - _your **girlfriend**_.  
  
_That will take some getting used to._  
  
“Unless that’s not what you meant with labels.” You speak as if you’re backing out of this already. As if you are ever going to.  
  
“No, no!” Chloe says fast, in the blink of an eye, she’s fallen onto your bed and ends up straddling your legs at the same time. “This is exactly what I meant.” Her hands move over your arms and you allow yourself to shiver and your skin to create goosebumps, no longer necessary to fight them.  
  
“Yeah?” You ask for lack of better responses. “You were quiet for a while there.” You weren’t worried as much as concerned about what went on in her head when her mouth was quiet.  
  
Chloe’s head shakes quick before a giggle escapes her. “I’m not used to you being so calm. But this is-“ Her hands move to your shoulders and rest around your neck, her fingers spread out to touch your lips and the side of your face. “-This is everything I want.” She whispers before her lips connect to yours.  
  
You take in her smell, the one that your bed sheets drown in after she’s been in contact with them, allow your senses to be overwhelmed and soak in that same scent, inhaling it deeply while she kisses you softly, wondering how you can stay forever in this drugged state.  
  
You get lost in the way her lips move against yours, how soft they feel and how sweet they taste, how they move and eventually twist into a smile.  
  
“Oh, I **_have_** to call my mom!” Chloe breaks up the kiss and jumps off of the bed happily. “And Bree!”  
  
You groan displeased as you let your head fall back to the bed, not really surprised but nonetheless sad about the open space now above you.  
  
But Chloe moves back on top of you, her free hand resting on your stomach as her smile lights up the room and perhaps more than just that, perhaps igniting that spark that causes you to finally catch fire.  
  
“Chloe, honey, did you make it back safely?” A woman’s voice echoes loudly through the room.  
  
“Yes, mom. But I have to tell you something.” Chloe starts laughing like a kid who’s taking pride in a succeeded prank and you can only roll your eyes at the sight, but you feel your lips tucking almost painfully.  
  
“David, how do I put this on speaker?” There’s fuss and mumbling coming from the other side of the line before Chloe’s mother’s voice is back. “Okay, honey, what’s going on?”  
  
“Beca and I just started dating.”  
  
You feel heat building in your cheeks and spreading through your entire face as Chloe’s eyes continue to drill into you, following your every move as her hand dances over your body, pulling at your shirt and occasionally slipping underneath it.  
  
“Sweetheart, that’s amazing! David, did you hear that?”  
  
“Yes, but honey, if this is what you want, you have to give it your all. Beca’s a good kid, you can’t let her get away.”  
  
“Dad, you’re supposed to be protective of _me_!”  
  
You follow the girl’s conversation with her parents as if you’re not even there, just glad you’re here to witness the changes in the girl’s face as happiness is the only constant in them.  
  
You feel a sense of fortune and peace wash over you as well, caused by nothing other than Chloe’s face.  
  
She eventually hangs up and goes back to kissing you, nothing passionate, just pecks on your lips, nose, cheeks, and whatever skin is within her reach.  
  
“Okay, we should go and celebrate, Becs.”  
  
“What, now? It’s late and I’m tired.” You complain, a yawn escaping you as if it’s planned.  
  
“You’re a DJ, you’re supposed to come alive at night!”  
  
“I don’t have to leave the room for that.”  
  
You take the girl on top of you by the hips and turn her around, lying her down on her back as you settle yourself between her legs. Chloe sets up a slow pace, which you’re fine with, but it worries you at the same time.  
  
When you came to terms with the idea of dating Chloe Beale, you didn’t think much would change. You’ve been sleeping together for months now, but there have also been moments with your clothes on that would be similar to the ones couples would have and share. You felt that you’ve been –in a way- together for a while and for that reason, didn’t think anything would be different from what you’ve been doing.  
  
But it’s not even thirty minutes after your relationship became official and you’re already feeling a shift in dynamics.  
  
Chloe’s kissing the palm of your hand, your wrist, the length of your arm. Her nails aren’t scratching your back, instead her soft fingertips slide over your skin, lacking any kind of rush or desperation.  
  
It’s scaring you for multiple reasons, but there’s one of them that prevents you from leaving the room.  
  
It feels good.  
  
Or, it doesn’t feel wrong. Which doesn’t do anything to ease your mind or erase your fears.  
  
You don’t know if it feels _right_ , but it feels good and Chloe’s actions still get its intended job done, just a lot slower than usual.  
  
She’s definitely turning you on. She does that every day and sometimes non-intended, but most of the times she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. You’re weak for the way she bites her lip, how she undresses you with her eyes, how her teeth bite into your skin.  
  
But now, you learn you’re also weak for her slow-moving lips against yours, her arms that hug you and keep you close to her, almost clinging to you without even having pushed her to the edge of desperation.  
  
It feels good.  
  
But you’re scared.  
  
You don’t do well with changes and it feels like everything is going to be different from now on.  
  
Your connection with Chloe began with pushing each other against walls, the girl pushing your buttons until anger was exchanged for frustration that was resolved with her bleeding lips between your teeth. It was a collision of two forces, every single time.  
  
And you know it hasn’t been _just_ that in a while. The sex you had this morning in the bathroom of her parents’ house wasn’t that. But it was powerful. It was Chloe’s body pressed against the tiles and your leg firmly pushed between her thighs. There was despair in her rolling eyes and frustration in her nails digging into your skin.  
  
What you’re doing right now is just too different.  
  
She’s still begging and panting, her arms wrapped around your head telling you to hurry, but it feels like you’re too close, not physically but emotionally.  
  
You lie awake most of that night, with Chloe’s arm thrown over your stomach and her naked body cuddled into your side, while you wonder what happened to that calmness and peace you felt so strongly earlier. Wondering where it went. Wondering why it didn’t take these doubts instead.

* * *

  
  
“Bellas, round up.” Chloe yells after the warm-up. Everyone quickly gathers around, glad to have finished the worst part of the practice. “Beca and I have some news.” Chloe’s eyes are mischievous and you don’t think you’re going to like what she has to say.  
  
“What? No, we don’t.” You take another step towards your girlfriend and grind your teeth together and glare at her angrily, hoping she’ll take the hint.  
  
But Chloe just puts her arm around you and faces the girls around the two of you. “We are dating!” Chloe speaks cheerful before pulling you even closer to her and kissing your cheek.  
  
You just groan in annoyance and that irritation grows when the girls initiate a group hug. “I hate you.” You mutter at Chloe, but she just happily shrugs her shoulders.  
  
“What’s going on?” Fat Amy seems to have missed the announcement, too occupied with her horizontal running.  
  
“Beca and I are dating.”  
  
“I did ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ with some Aboriginals. Oh, I thought we were stating facts. Or things we’re not proud of.  
  
“That doesn’t even make any sense.” You mutter confused, but the girl hugs you to her chest and you don’t think she even heard you.  
  
“Well, with Chloe off the market, I think it’s obvious who’s now the hottest single girl of Barden, eh?” Fat Amy slaps her own stomach and winks at you, so you nod in agreement to praise her ego.  
  
“Beca.” Aubrey’s suddenly in front of you and just the mention of your name sounds threatening. “Please don’t give me a reason to hate you _more_.” She says with a big smile before giving you a quick hug that is luckily over before you’ve realized what’s happening. You blink twice and the girl’s long out of sight.  
  
“Awh!” Chloe says with her hands pressed to her chest. “I knew you two would get along eventually.”  
  
“Hey, no!” You disagree quickly with a finger pointed up to make your point. “She just threatened me!” But Chloe’s already walking away and you end up talking to no one, it seems. You throw your hands up in disbelief and defeat before following your girlfriend to the line-up for dance practice.  
  
“Look at us.” Stacie appears from behind you and she throws an arm around your neck. “We got the two hottest seniors.” Stacie speaks proud as you see her eyes travel over what you assume is Aubrey a few feet away, but you don’t dare to check for confirmation.  
  
You already feel your breakfast coming back up at the thought of it.  
  
“Who would’ve thought.” You reply nonchalant, not at all interested in understanding what she sees in your Coach.  
  
Then your eyes find Chloe’s shape, her features you’ve come to know so well, the dip in her lower back and the way her hips stand out, the way her red hair falls over her shoulders and the light that seems to surround her everywhere she goes.  
  
“Who would’ve thought.” You whisper again, this time feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction in the fact that the beautiful girl that’s standing there is _yours_.  
  
Dance practice starts and you quickly shake off the stupid, sentimental thoughts that have risen to the surface.  
  
At least with the team in formation and as concentrated as they come, you had, wrongfully, thought they’d stop bothering you. But every time Chloe so much as even looks at you, the girls start to whistle and make kissing sounds, much to your dislike.  
  
Although the sounds Fat Amy makes could be better interpreted as a whale dying.  
  
Jessica and Ashley just share giggles with each other before glancing over at you with pursed lips and soft eyes, as if you’re a goddamn puppy getting rescued from a burning house.  
  
Lilly whispered something about how she was once present during a hostage taking. You don’t even want to think about the real possibility of that occurring around the girl and what brought that memory up.  
  
You hear Cynthia-Rose and Stacie discuss different fingering techniques and you quickly get your ears focused somewhere else, because you would rather die than live through that.  
  
Aubrey seems oblivious to the events that are happening behind her back, or maybe she’s just trying to ignore most of it, something you wish you could do as well.  
  
Chloe’s pacing the room, making adjustments here and there, also unaware or unconcerned about the activity in the room, although you know that whenever she’s in her co-captain role, she’s the most serious version of herself.  
  
“I really hate you for this, I hope you know that.” You mutter when you feel Chloe’s hands on your hips, moving them excessively to the music.  
  
Chloe simply ignores your words. “After all this time and you still don’t have control over these muscles, Becs. Which is funny, because they seemed to work great last night.” Chloe’s hands slide from your hips to the inside of your thighs and you have to do a crazy jump to get away from her greedy touch.  
  
“Beale!” You threaten, ignoring the noise coming from the girls in the room. Chloe just smiles at you, proud and satisfied with her actions, not at all bothered with the responses of the group like you are. “Did you even consider checking with me first? Or did it just pop into that head of yours and you decided to go with it?”  
  
“Where is the fun in asking for permission?” Chloe flirts and winks at you, her hands making an attempt to pull you back, but you dodge her touch.  
  
“That’s not the point.” You sigh before shaking your head and returning to your designated place in the group, which is when you notice all the eyes on you.  
  
“Beca, we would all appreciate it if you kept your personal issues to yourself or at least outside of Bellas practice.” Aubrey says with that stupid, glued-on smile of hers.  
  
Of course she ignores the group’s talk, but when you say one thing, she’s quick to judge.  
  
“Are you serious?” You take a step, but realize it’s not worth the fight. You throw up your hands and sigh deeply to at least express your complaint in some way.  
  
“Thank you.” Chloe whispers in your ear, hinting at your surrender, her hands moving over your back until the music starts again and she’s off correcting Ashley.  
  
_I didn’t do it for you._  
  
Those words were lying on your tongue, but somehow they tasted false before even rolling off of your tongue, so you decided to keep your silence.

* * *

  
  
A weight gets lifted from your shoulders when practice is over and you can’t get out of the gym fast enough. You’re not particular excited for a day filled with boring classes, but today, you don’t mind them.  
  
The reaction of the group was to be expected and it was definitely not as bad as it could have been. You just wish Chloe would have informed you of the fact that she was going to tell them today. You don’t care that they know about you and Chloe, although if it was up to you, you would have waited at least a few days or weeks, but it wasn’t up to you and you didn’t even have a say in the matter.  
  
You’re not mad at Chloe. Not even surprised.  
  
You don’t even think you would have expected anything less from her.  
  
It would have been nice if she mentioned it to you first. If she told you in the morning that she was going to announce your relationship status to the group of girls, so you would have been prepared.  
  
It doesn’t really matter, but you’re glad to have classes today, so you’ll be away from the girl for a little bit. After spending almost every minute of the last few days with Chloe, it’s good to simply be by yourself and catch your breath in the middle of everything.  
  
You think your fears and insecurities have taken its toll on you since last night, to a point where you get agitated over nothing, like this morning during Bellas practice. You know they will pass, but since you’re not only living with the person you just started to date, the two of you are also pretty close and these classes are all you have where you’re by yourself.  
  
Now that you have a day to relax and reflect on what’s happened and what’s going on, you think it will be fine.  
  
_Who knew there’d come a day where you’d be happy to go to Philosophy?  
_  
But that doesn’t mean you’re not thinking about Chloe and how this class would be ten times better if she was seated next to you.  
  
You get yourself through the boring lectures, every one of the professors hammering on the fact that their course is the most important one and that the information they provide is of great significance for the upcoming midterms.  
  
You honestly couldn’t care less.  
  
“Beca, there you are!” Chloe collapses into you in the hallways of the building around lunch time. “I need your help, you have to come with me.” Her hand tightly clasps at yours in an attempt to get you moving.  
  
“I can’t, I have..” You search the hallway as if the answer lies there. “I don’t know what I have, but I know I have another class.”  
  
“It’s an emergency, please.” Chloe begs and now that you’re paying attention to her, you can see she’s desperate. You nod and allow her to drag you outside. “You remember that art project I needed your help with?” She asks as she pulls you into a quick pace across campus.  
  
“Vaguely.” You say teasing at the remembrance of Chloe coming undone against your denim jeans. “If you pulled me out of class to have sex, then.. I’m totally cool with that.”  
  
“Good to know.” Chloe winks and pecks your lips before moving her long legs even faster towards the art building. “Maybe after this.” She decides. “I have to turn in that project at the end of the day and I completely forgot about it. I blame you for that.”  
  
“What did I do?” You speak insulted as Chloe pulls you into the building and pins you against the inside of the entrance.  
  
“You’ve been way too distracting.” Chloe says as her lips tuck deviously and her hands start to roam your body. You feel yourself tense for a split second before you invite her warmth in.  
  
“Art project?” You pitch rushing.  
  
“Right.” The girl remembers and she gets her feet moving again. “Okay, so I need something before the end of the day and I have no idea what to do.”  
  
The classroom is big, but there’s few people inside it, all scattered out and focused on their paper or canvas. You spot students with paint in their hair and on their face, one girl in the back seems to be crying and drawing at the same time, weirdly. But none of them have the reaction on you as the girl you see working in the front of the class.  
  
It twists your stomach and angers your soul.  
  
“Can’t you just paint something and be done with it?” You ask as you follow Chloe luckily to the opposite side of the room of where Hannah is seated.  
  
“I can’t _just_ paint something, Becs. I need something great to show for. This is the first project with just one rule. If I mess this up, it’ll seem like I’m not creative and I don’t belong here.” Chloe’s eyes are focused on the ground and she’s fidgeting with her sleeve.  
  
“Isn’t art supposed to be about perspective? Maybe what you think is messing up, is great to someone else.” You don’t know if you’re helping, but you also don’t know what else to do. You’d very much like to be anywhere but here.  
  
“I won’t mess up.” She says suddenly as she pushes you down on a chair. “I know the perfect thing. Stay!” She orders before she’s fleeing the room.  
  
You don’t exactly feel at home in this room, but the students don’t even acknowledge your existence in their workplace. You obey Chloe’s order and stay on the chair, spotting a big white screen behind you and fearing the worst already. When Chloe returns, that fear becomes reality.  
  
“I am not modelling!” You’re off the chair instantly, but Chloe easily puts you back.  
  
“You’re not.” She eases your mind, but she starts to install the camera in her hand and you start to question her sincerity.  
  
“Beale, I’m serious. I’m not going to be your project. And I’m definitely not taking off my shirt here.” You speak through gritted teeth.  
  
Chloe just hums as she sets the camera on a high chair and checks the angle. You know your words aren’t reaching your girlfriend, so you sigh in defeat and instead watch her movements.  
  
“I just need your hands, Becs. One, actually.” She speaks as she takes your right hand and raises it up and in front of the white screen.  
  
“We both know that’s a lie.” You say smug, earning a bright smile from Chloe.  
  
“See! Distracting.” The girl says laughing as she returns to the camera. You made the mistake of letting your hand drop, but at Chloe’s high-pitched scream of your name, you quickly put it back in the air.  
  
“Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on.” You say confused, feeling even more awkward in the classroom with your one arm stretched out. But Chloe seems serious and focused, and you know you’d do anything she wants you to.  
  
Chloe continues to mess with the camera before finally returning to you and holding your raised hand in hers, your fingers intertwined, thumbs facing the camera as your friend orders you to stay still.  
  
The flash is off, but you hear the camera clicking. Once when holding your girlfriend’s hand, and another three times after she’s slipped from your grip.  
  
“Perfect.” She says as she investigates the pictures. “I need to finish this, you can go back to class now.” Chloe says excited as she hops towards you and kisses your lips.  
  
“Not even an explanation?” You ask confused, but already aware of her answer before she gave it to you.  
  
“Nope. You can see it when it’s done.” Chloe explains as she walks you to the door.  
  
“Why do I feel used?” You mutter as the girl kisses your cheek and then closes the door after you.  


* * *

 

* * *

 

  
  
You had walked into art class cheerful and ignorant. It wasn’t until you saw the mess in the room, the hard working students and the pain in their eyes that you realized what day it was.  
  
The last day of the assignment.  
  
You had been so caught up in Beca that you completely forgot.  
  
The project had to involve skin, that was the only rule. How can such an easy task leave you blank? You look around the room, trying to get inspired, but there’s nothing there. You find Hannah at her usual spot and she seems relaxed and calm, painting something you can’t make out, but whatever it is, it isn’t for the project.  
  
You remember how she told you she was going to use the assignment to work towards her dream and she was planning to put a tattoo on someone. You can only imagine she has already done that and completed her task.  
  
You are interested in her work and you’d love to go over and ask her about it, but you’re not sure you are allowed to, anymore.  
  
Not that you have time for that today anyway. You need an idea and you need it fast. You’re reminded of your initial idea, the painting you were planning on Beca’s back, and you wonder if you still have a choice to contemplate it.  
  
Whatever you decide or come up with, you know you need Beca for it. It takes you twenty-three minutes of running down the hallways and peeking inside the rooms, since she’s not answering your text messages, for you to find her.  
  
The more you think about the initial and only idea you’ve had, the more you start to hate it. But it’s not until you’re standing in the art room with Beca in front of you, where you feel lost and she tries to help, that you see it.  
  
Her hands, perhaps the parts of her body you know best, clenched into fists, not necessarily out of anger, but more so a natural state of being. The blue veins are beautifully running over the bones in her hand and you can easily see the way blood travels through her fingers.  
  
You remember the first time you became aware of her quite visible veins. There was anger and blood involved then, caused by her outburst and her taking it out on the walls of your shared room. Back then, you had thought it was due to the pressure she put on them and her anger. Now, you know it comes with her default setting.  
  
It’s weird to think back about that time when you didn’t know Beca that well. When her words were able to hurt and scare you. When her actions couldn’t tell you what you needed to know. When you only knew one or two of her faces.  
  
It’s weird to think back on that and realize you are currently dating the girl with bleeding knuckles and a sharp tongue.  
  
And you have always loved her hands. You love how dangerously rough they appear, how strong they are, how they can break noses and walls, but whenever they touch you, they seem to have the opposite reaction.  
  
They heal and warm your skin.  
  
Her fingers are soft whenever they roam your body, often times mixed with impatience, but nothing but gentleness. Her nails can scratch and dig into your skin, but there’s that loving touch to it. You doubt those hands could ever physically hurt you.  
  
“I know the perfect thing.” You realize and you make your way towards the storage room. You sign in and write down the item you’re taking with you before running back to Beca.  
  
Surprisingly, she’s still seated, but that changes when she sees what’s in your hand, but it’s not hard to convince her to stay.  
  
You already have the perfect picture in mind. One of your entangled hands, and another of just Beca’s hand after you’ve released her. When you’re able to see the outcome, they are somehow better than expected. Beca’s hand is relaxed in yours and her veins are able to be seen, but nothing like the second picture where her hand is hanging in the air, her fingers slightly chasing your hand as the color blue takes over the image. You think if you just overemphasize it while editing, it will come out as perfect.  
  
But for you to get anything done, so you’ve learned by now, Beca cannot be in your presence, so you send her out and get to work.  
  
You find a computer in the technology part of the building and you edit the pictures until you’re satisfied with them. Then you have to run across campus to get to the printing service. You ask for their advice and even though it’s not the cheapest option, you get the two pictures printed on a thin plate of aluminum with some sort of coating that protects it from any damage; water, scratches, anything. Out of all the options, this one has the highest image quality, and you definitely need that in this case.  
  
After waiting for thirty minutes, it comes out even more beautiful than you had anticipated. The aluminum is so thin, it looks like it’s simply printed on glass.  
  
You tip the guy who helped you and you quickly head back to the art section on campus where you’re just in time to hand in the project.  
  
Paul starts at the front of the class, where Hannah is placed with a young guy beside her. When you see Paul examine the inside of the boy’s arm, you put two and two together. Even though there’s a small group of people following your professor, you decide to stay in place.  
  
It takes Paul approximately twenty minutes to inspect and grade the work of the people seated in front of you and then it’s finally your turn.  
  
“Chloe.” Paul states with his hands pushed together, his eyes dancing over your face as his lips are pressed together and his head softly moves in a nodding manner. “It’s good to see you.” He says and his lips turn into a genuine smile as he takes a seat next to you. You reach for your work, but the man stops you. “Tell me about it first.”  
  
“About my project or-?”  
  
“About everything that happened from the moment you heard about this assignment to right now.”  
  
You don’t know why Beca’s face appears in front of you or why you want to tell your art professor everything about her, from the way she rolls her eyes to her beautiful smile, but you’re quick to push that bad idea out. Instead, you decide to honestly tell him about your struggle and how you only just got the task ready.  
  
“So you finished your creation within just a few hours?” Paul asks curious as his eyes drop down to where the item is resting underneath the table, but you had put a towel around it, both to prevent it from breaking and to keep the mystery going.  
  
“Would you like to see it?” You ask and a giggle escapes you when he starts to nod excitingly.  
  
You stand up from your seat and take the item with you to where you took the picture earlier today. You unwrap it and hold it in front of the white screen for the best effect. You keep it up as you mentally note every change in Paul’s face. It doesn’t say much, but after minutes of staring, he starts to smile and you feel relief wash over you.  
  
You take the painting with you and lie it down in front of your professor who still seems unable to keep his eyes off of it.  
  
“Very interesting.” He says as his fingers trail over the side of it. “Perspex?” He asks.  
  
“Thin aluminum with some special, added layers.” You correct, using the words the man in the store used to explain it to you, but keeping some level of secretion.  
  
“Very interesting.” He says again, this time in a different tone. You don’t know if that means better or worse. “I don’t know if I told you about my ways to grade work, Chloe. This isn’t like a paper or a test where I’d just need to check the answers. I try not to compare students to each other, bear in mind I say try.” The man finds your eye and smiles. “I try to look at everything; your previous work, your progress, your road towards the end result, your personal situation. I’m interested in all of that, because it shows in your work. And I’m sure I told you why I give only short windows of time for projects, right?”  
  
You agree, telling him you can see what he means by forcing the creativity to come out if time isn’t on the student’s side.  
  
“Exactly. I could have given you three months for this and no doubt you’d have created something a dozen times better than this. But that goes for anyone in this room. What I’m interested in is what someone can do in a week, a day, an hour. That’s when the real artist steps out from the crowd. If you did this in a manner of hours, I don’t want to see what you can do in the span of a month, I want to see what else you can do in a few hours.”  
  
You take in every word he says, finding a great level of spirituality and intelligence in them.  
  
“Now I never give A’s. You can ask every student I’ve ever had. An A stands for perfection and I don’t think anything is ever done or ideal. There needs to be room for improvement.” Paul explains as he fills in a form about your project and you watch him write a B+ on top of the paper. He tells you that you did good and moves onto the next.  
  
You’re happy, not just because of the grade, but because of Paul’s words and his appreciation and how passionately he speaks about art. He inspires and motivates you to do better, to keep working, to keep creating. You can’t wait for the next project.  
  
You stay in class, chatting with the people who have been graded, including Hannah. She’s back to her old self, the girl you liked on your first day in this classroom. Just like Paul, she has a great passion for art and she manages to keep the fire in you lit.  
  
You leave that afternoon feeling more sure of your path within art than ever.  
  
You can’t wait to tell Beca.

* * *

  
  
You excitedly burst through the door, but Beca isn’t in your dorm room. You shoot her a quick text to ask about her whereabouts, but while waiting for a response you know might never come, you decide to find a place for your project.  
  
The room is entirely too full, now that you’ve taken a minute to examine it. You clean up the desk and pick up the clothes thrown around the room, but it doesn’t create space.  
  
In lack of better places, you hang your art project on your side of the room, taking down one of your family photos, but this painting is way bigger than that frame. It ends up reaching so far down that it would be right beside your head if you were sleeping.  
  
You push your bed away from the wall to see if it’s even a good place for the photo, which it is, but somehow you’re more focused on how far you can push your bed across the room. Eventually, you’ve made one, big bed out of the two singles in the room.  
  
Not only do you now have a great excuse to sleep in the same bed as Beca, or at least right beside her, the painting also looks fitting on the wall. When you lie down on the bed and turn to the side, you don’t even have to lift your head to see the perfection of Beca’s hand in yours and you think you’d like that to be the first thing you’ll see when you awake every morning.  
  
Or perhaps the second thing.  
  
After shooting the girl another six text messages, and surprisingly receiving an answer at last, you go and find Beca in the record store. When you walk in, the first thing you’re greeted with is a cheerful, young boy.  
  
“Hey Jesse.”  
  
“Chloe! Welcome, welcome. What brings you here? I’m just kidding.” Jesse laughs as his hand falls on your arm. “Beca’s in there.” He points at a booth where you indeed spot Beca in, together with what you assume is Luke. The man has headphones hanging around his neck as he talks to your girlfriend, who seems rather indifferent in the conversation, her feet up and on the desk as she chews on something.  
  
“Thanks, Jesse. The store looks great.” You compliment him and he seems to appreciate it, his face lighting up in glee before he goes back to stocking.  
  
You head for what you believe is the radio booth and knock on the doorframe, to which the man jumps out of his chair to open the door for you.  
  
“I wasn’t allowed in here for weeks.” Beca complains as you enter the isolated room.  
  
“I make exceptions for pretty ladies.” Luke speaks as he takes your hand and leads you to a free chair.  
  
“Alright, that’s enough. Back in your seat.” Beca’s arm wraps around Luke’s stomach as she shoves him back to his place. You just giggle at the sight, finding jealousy in whatever form Beca shows it quite funny and adorable. It’s also hilarious to see someone of her height take on a guy of Luke’s size.  
  
“I’m Chloe. You’re Luke, right?”  
  
“Have you guys never met?” Beca asks surprised.  
  
“I don’t think so.”  
  
“No, I would have remembered.” Luke says, his smile wide and friendly.  
  
“Dude, I will cut you.” Beca threatens as she throws a CD across the room, missing the man’s figure just barely, but he didn’t even flinch or make an attempt to dodge it.  
  
He winks at you before replacing the headphones on his head and shifting some buttons and continuing his radio show.  
  
“He seems nice.” You say teasing as you lean forward and into Beca’s space to kiss her cheek.  
  
“He’s an asshole.” Beca mumbles. “How’d it go?”  
  
You tell her about Paul’s view and the things he’s said to you, how they affected you and how you’re extremely motivated for the upcoming projects because of it.  
  
“Alright, where’s the masterpiece? Can I finally see it?”  
  
“It’s in our room.” You say flirtatious as your fingers trail over Beca’s shoulder and arm.  
  
Beca stares at you for a second, her lips curling perfectly into a light smile before she moves to stand up. She taps Luke’s shoulder and he signs to wait as he wraps up.  
  
You follow Beca’s lead and wait for the man to finish his radio talk. In the meantime, you busy yourself by letting your arms fall over your girlfriend’s shoulders and hugging her back to your chest. You inhale her scent and it fills your lungs and takes over your senses.  
  
“You guys leaving already?” Luke says as he drops his headphones and turns in his chair.  
  
“Yeah, dude. I’ll stop by again tomorrow or later this week.” Beca’s voice sounds indifferent, but you know she cares about Luke and his record store.  
  
“It was nice to meet you.” You say while stretching one arm out towards the man, the other one firmly wrapped around Beca as she tries to exit the booth with you attached to her back as Luke shakes your hand and releases you again quick.  
  
“Don’t even dare.” You hear Beca say threatening and you don’t have to search for long to find the person she’s talking to.  
  
Jesse’s jaw is hanging open as you and Beca head towards the entrance and exit of the store and his eyes shine proud, a comment probably burning his tongue, but he doesn’t let it slip.  
  
“Bye, Jesse!” You wave enthusiastic as you watch the boy raise his hand, not entirely waving in return as much as keeping his hand still in the air as a goodbye.  
  
You walk out of the store and cling to Beca’s body for a few more steps, surprised when she doesn’t complain, but walking like that isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, so you end up walking home hand in hand, the way you always do.

* * *

  
  
“What do you think?” You say excitedly as you show Beca what you did with the room. You scan it yourself as well, completely satisfied and happy with the new layout of the area. The beds together on one side of the room leaves for a perfectly empty and free half of what used to be yours.  
  
“Oh, you changed everything.”  
  
“Isn’t it perfect? We have more space this way, Becs! This is just an idea, but can you imagine what we can do with this room? We can change everything!” You feel enthusiasm roaming through your body and you have a feeling it won’t leave anytime soon. “Come!” You pat the spot on the bed next to you for Beca to take. “I couldn’t find a better place. What do you think?” Your eyes once again travel over the project you finished earlier today and you’re starting to like its place on the wall.  
  
“I don’t get it.” Beca says confused.  
  
You just laugh, knowing you could never try to explain your reasoning behind the project and the way it turned out. “I’m hungry.” You check the time and see it’s early in the evening, but you skipped lunch due to your busy schedule and you’re starting to feel that. “Are you hungry?”  
  
“Always.” Beca grunts. “I don’t think we have anything, since none of us went for groceries today. You wanna grab dinner somewhere?”  
  
Excitement takes control over your body for a few, uncoordinated seconds. “Our first date!” You yelp out. You hadn’t even thought of that yet, but it seems Beca has. “You can pick the place, I’m gonna get dressed.”  
  
“You’re already dressed.” Beca speaks annoyed, but you’re already in the closet, going through your side to find the perfect thing. “Let’s just go, please.” Beca begs.  
  
“You just asked me out on a date, Becs. I have to look good.” You try on a shirt, but decide it’s not the right one for tonight, so you lose it again.  
  
“You look great, you don’t have to change.” Beca says as she walks into the closet. “We don’t have to make this a big deal, it’s just dinner.”  
  
“Beca, it’s our first date as a couple!” When you turn and find her leaning against the doorframe, she looks unsettled and you can’t quite place it. You pull your legs into the set of pants before walking over to her. “What’s wrong?” Your hands are eager for contact, but you don’t touch Beca yet, afraid whatever’s causing this face might be triggered with the touch of a hand. Maybe she’ll yell or even worse, leave the room. Maybe she’s having second thoughts about your relationship and she-  
  
“Nothing.” Beca’s single word breaks through the train of worries that was roaring and racing through your mind. You watch how your girlfriend shakes her head and inhales deeply before a smile spreads over her face. “I just thought you already looked good.” Beca smiles sweetly.  
  
Beca works that smile to evaporate your worries like the sun exercises its energy on water, and you wait for your thoughts to have turned into small and unimportant clouds.  
  
You finally allow your hands the contact, your fingers eagerly move over the girl’s arms until they reach her neck and you can rest them there.  
  
“Instead of watching me get ready and complaining about how long I’m taking, why don’t you dress up as well?”  
  
“Why? You don’t think I look good?” Beca fakes to be insulted.  
  
“You look o-kay.” Your eyes doubtfully scan the girl’s body and clothes, and she looks beautiful, but you can’t let that show.  
  
Beca’s jaw drops in shock. “I’m dating a monster.”  
  
The first two words automatically tuck at your lips.  
  
You cave as you burst into laughter and you try to make up for it by kissing her lips, but Beca’s resisting your touch in her act of pretending to be hurt. Eventually you succeed and she kisses you back, first as if she’s being forced, then as if she’s never going to stop.  
  
“We should get ready.” The words fall short when they get swallowed away by your girlfriend.  
  
“We should.” Beca agrees verbally, but her hands rid you of the clothes you had just put, urging you back to where the beds are until you forget all about the hunger you felt for food and focus on the craving you feel with Beca’s body underneath yours.

* * *

  
  
“I can’t believe you still dressed up.” Beca sighs as she plays with the straw in her drink.  
  
“You thought sex would make me forget about my personal standards?”  
  
“Not _just_ sex.” Beca corrects, her eyebrows raised smug and her smile deviously matching.  
  
The waiter prevents you from shooting back a remark, even though you’re not sure you’d even find one. You’re perfectly happy with simply watching your girlfriend be arrogant about the nightly activities you’ve just had in the early evening.  
  
You never noticed the little things Beca Mitchell does that would be considered romantic to anyone paying close attention, but she does it so sneaky and nonchalant that you’re not sure how many times before she did things like this.  
  
“Why did you order your burger without pickles?”  
  
“What do you mean? The last time we ate here, you almost threw up because of this tiny pickle. I don’t want your vomit on my fries.”  
  
She says it so casual and uncaring that anyone else wouldn’t even pick up on it, but you do. The underlying _‘because you don’t like it’_ is louder than ever. You wonder how many gestures you didn’t notice, how many times she showed you she cared without using any words at all.  
  
“I’m starving.” Beca complains childish as she lays her head on the table tiredly.  
  
“Did you talk to your dad today?” You ask while running your fingers over Beca’s head and through her hair.  
  
“No, didn’t see him.” Beca mumbles, sighing in contentment when your fingers move over her skull.  
  
“You are still planning to see him, right?” You ask, afraid her reconcilement was short-lived. But Beca moves back in her seat and nods before emptying her glass. “Great. How are your classes?”  
  
“What’s with the third degree?” Beca responds defensive and semi-annoyed.  
  
“You never tell me anything, Becs.” Your right foot slips between her ankles as your eyebrows raise in flirtation before you seductively and slowly bite your lower lip.  
  
Beca rolls her eyes, but her lips pull itself into a smile. “I tell you everything.” She argues.  
  
“I gave you at least seven reasons why I like you last night and you got out from under that due to your adorable composure. If you want to convince me you tell me everything, you can start there.”  
  
“You want me to tell you why I like you?” Beca snorts, but her eyes stay locked on yours. “What makes you think I like you in the first place?”  
  
You feel your mouth hanging open in offense, which is probably the reason for Beca’s sudden laughter. “We’re dating, Becs! You’re so rude.” You pout saddened.  
  
“I mean, I have a _reaction_ to you?” Beca speaks as if that should make up for it.  
  
“A reaction?”  
  
“A favorable reaction.” Beca explains casually plain and simple as she scans the room, probably looking for her food.  
  
You shake your head and smile at how your adorable girlfriend is trying to keep her tough appearances up. “You know, Beca, just because you order your hamburger without pickles for me and you hold my hand whenever we’re going somewhere and _you like me,-“_  You pause shortly to let her know that you can see right through her. “-That doesn’t make you any less independent, tough or a badass.”  
  
Beca’s smile grows while her eyes study your face, searching to see if you’re serious or if this is still a game. When she can’t find confirmation for the latter, she lets her head fall. “Fine.” She caves as she crosses her arms and rests them on the table as she leans in, an action you copy at her requesting eyes. Beca looks around the room as if what she’s about to tell you is classified information. “Maybe I do like you.”  
  
The words flutter through your chest and stomach, setting everything it comes in contact with on fire.  
  
Beca’s eyes drop to your lips and you see her leaning in even more, but you’re quick to pull back and return to your seat. “Lipstick.” You give as an explanation when Beca’s confusion focuses on you.  
  
Your girlfriend rolls her eyes and sighs as she drops back into her chair. “Sometimes that reaction is not so favorable.” Beca says grumpy.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "You’re complicated. You need someone who gets that about you." -Lev Grossman
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idek guys, sometimes I'm cool with this chapter, other times I'm not. I feel like I'm pushing myself through a writer's block which sucks 'cause I haven't had a block in months and I'm still super passionate about this story but idk.. Anyway, it's been in my files for over a week now so, have at it ;)

Watching your bed and Chloe’s bed pushed together was like watching a claustrophobic person stuck in an elevator freefalling a hundred floors down, no chance of getting out alive while they scream and scream.  
  
Maybe that’s excessive.  
  
But you felt claustrophobic in that moment. You felt like you were trapped in a confined place with its walls closing in on you, no way out and destined for destruction.  
  
You broke out in sweat and contemplated leaving without Chloe noticing a thing, her voice too high and her eyes anywhere but on you to realize your struggle.  
  
But you know you could never leave the girl, -the girl that is as of last night yours- so you fought through your extreme and irrational fear and took a seat next to her on the two beds.  
  
She showed you her project and you didn’t know what it meant or why she got a good grade for it. It’s just a set of pictures. The one on the top shows Chloe’s hand holding yours, her index and middle finger visible on the picture and resting between your knuckles while your thumbs are crossed and faced forwards. The photo below that one shows just your hand, all fingers captured on camera while air fills the space Chloe’s hand used to occupy.  
  
Your hand looks no different in the first one compared to the second one, and you feel like you’re missing the punchline. A reason or explanation that Chloe and her professor found in it.  
  
Your creativity definitely begins and stops with music.  
  
Little by little, your fears started to shrink and return to the back of your head, but still on edge because of the current bed situation, you had a poor reaction when Chloe excitedly started to get dressed for your first date, as she called it. To you, it was just dinner, but your girlfriend turned it into a big deal and you really wish she wouldn’t.  
  
It wasn’t until you saw the happiness leak off of Chloe’s face and concern take over that you realized you were being an idiot and you didn’t care what she called the made plans, as long as she had that happy smile on her face.  
  
“Nothing, I just thought you already looked good.” You had told her, which wasn’t a lie, because the girl always looks good, but you decided to keep the truth behind your actual feelings to yourself.  
  
After a kiss that led to sex, which led to more sex, you end up having dinner at a restaurant on campus, one you’ve been to many times before. Chloe has the double stacked crunchy chicken with black sesame sauce, coleslaw and spicy sesame seeds. It looks quite tasty, but you prefer your regular hamburger menu with fries.  
  
“Are you not gonna eat your vegetables?”  
  
“Don’t judge, there’s lettuce on my burger!”  
  
Chloe ends up eating your cooked vegetables, telling you it’s a waste not to eat it.  
  
It’s weird how much you relax when you’re with the girl. The doubts you have had consistently since the very start of your relationship are still present, just a lot less loud whenever Chloe looks at you or whenever you make her smile.  
  
You’re still not exactly comfortable with the changes that have been made within your shared room as well as the shifts in objects that can’t be seen with the eye, but you’re also positive you’ll get through it. The laughing girl in front of you makes it all worth it.

* * *

  
  
“You’ve definitely had too much wine.” You state after leaving the restaurant and Chloe stumbling beside you on the sidewalk.  
  
“I had a lot of wine. I didn’t have _too much_.” Chloe corrects as she takes your hand and starts to dance around you. “ _You_ -“ She says full of judgement. “-had three desserts, so you’re not allowed to criticize.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dare.” You say quick, guiding the girl in her modern dancing as she swirls and jumps in circles around you. It’s funny how Chloe turns into a six-year old who stole three chocolate bars and ate them in one go whenever she’s drunk.  
  
“I’m really happy.” Chloe says as she folds her arms around your neck and continues to dance, just a little less with her arms and more with her hips.  
  
“I know. That’s what the alcohol makes you believe.” You hook your fingers in the girl’s front pockets of her jeans to keep her in your range while she moves to a rhythm only she hears.  
  
After making it back to your dorm, you finally learn what Chloe has to go through most mornings. Undressing the girl and putting her in pajamas appears to be just as difficult as the fight Chloe has with getting you dressed at seven thirty.  
  
The only difference being that she’s drunk and you’re just a pain in the ass.  
  
“Chlo, you still have to get that makeup off of your face and you have to brush your teeth, please.”  
  
Chloe complains but eventually gets out from under the sheets she buried herself in and meets you by the sink. She refuses to do both, so you wipe her layers off before allowing her to brush her teeth. When she’s finally clean and bed-ready, you take care of your own hygiene and meet her back in the bed.  
  
Chloe is on what’s technically her bed, but faced towards where you’ll lay. You crawl onto your bed and slip underneath the sheets carefully, preparing yourself for whatever Chloe has in mind.  
  
You’ve gotten used to her touch. You like the way her hand feels in yours, her lips on your cheek, her fingers on the back of your neck. You don’t even care that she clings to your back in front of your former manager and Jesse.  
  
Hugging her when she was crying back in Kansas was already pushing it. You figured it was what she needed and you had no problem giving that, but you’re not comfortable in long embraces.  
  
And you’re used to sleep alone. You prefer to sleep alone. You’re not someone who likes to cuddle, tangled limbs and sleepy kisses while dozing off isn’t your thing. And you don’t know the actual reason behind Chloe’s redecorating of the room, but you fear it’s something along that line.  
  
But you find her in the bed next to you, her eyes closed and her face peacefully beautiful, her mouth slightly opened as she’s fast asleep, the air softly hearable as it travels in through her nose and out through her mouth. Your hand reaches for a stray hair before you can stop yourself. You rest your hand there, your fingers tracing her jawline while you realize maybe these sleeping arrangements aren’t the worst.

* * *

  
  
You wake up to an alarm clock you have never heard or seen before, but there’s a note next to it that says Chloe’s already left to prepare Bellas practice with Aubrey.  
  
You try to fall back asleep, but the alarm clock goes off again every five minutes and you silently curse your girlfriend for how well she knows you.  
  
You take a quick shower and head over to the gym, arriving at eight a.m. on the dot. “Six alarms, really?” You say when you reach Chloe in the middle of the open space.  
  
“And look at you. You’re on time.” Chloe cheers happily before kissing your lips and making her way over to the bleachers.  
  
“I’m always on time.” You retort as you follow her tracks. “I didn’t hear you leave this morning.”  
  
“You could sleep through a fire alarm, Becs.” Chloe says with a wink, as if she knows everything. She goes through her bag and eventually finds a hair tie.  
  
“I do sleep through your snoring, so.” You say with a big smile as you return back to the floor where all the Bellas are already round up.  
  
“I don’t snore!” Chloe yelps insulted as she slaps your arm.  
  
“You do when you’ve been drinking.”  
  
“Did you girls forget to send me my invite to the wedding or should I check my inbox again?” Stacie asks smug before wrapping her arms around your body and guiding you away from Chloe.  
  
Your eyes stay on your girlfriend however, following how she laughs over Stacie’s words and winks at you as you get put in place by the tall Bella.  
  
“Eyeline-monster. You, me, drinks, what do you say?” Stacie says as her green eyes land on you, all knowing and aware of your deepest, darkest secrets.  
  
“What? Why?” You blurt out rather rude, feeling the need to pull your defenses up as the girl seems to investigate and make a full report on your life within just the blink of an eye.  
  
The tall girl just winks at you as a reply before turning away from you, leaving you behind confused and semi-scared.  
  
You like Stacie. You think the person dating Aubrey Posen must be the craziest motherfucker alive or just insanely brave. Stacie is funny and hardworking, she never complains about the intense Bellas workout and she continues to squeeze her own boobs, no matter how many times the group members tell her to stop.  
  
You respect that.  
  
After running for several painful minutes, Aubrey ends the cardio for the day and goes, once again, over what needs to be done for the semi-finals. Apparently, her amazing plan is to do it exactly like the Regionals, except instead of competing against people with socks on their hands, there will be groups that are in fact talented.  
  
“We won’t win if we don’t change it up.” You try for what feels like the hundredth time to get through to Coach, but she doesn’t want any of it.  
  
“We will if we do it exactly like we rehearse it. Amy, I’m talking to you. Exactly like we rehearse it. Stacie, we’ve talked about the boob grabbing.”  
  
“Girlfriend roast!” Cynthia-Rose calls out, making the group laugh and Aubrey blush slightly.  
  
“Now, Chloe has made some changes to the choreography, so I hope that settles that, Beca.”  
  
It would have settled things, if the changes weren’t minimal to nonexistent. Chloe explains how the walk halfway through the first verse will be cut, she won’t do the spin with Aubrey at the end of that same verse and the overall performance will be a lot tighter. Which means that not only are you still performing the same, stupid routine, you will be doing so with the girls even closer to you.  
  
“That’s it?” The words sound like an attack towards your girlfriend, when in reality you know she’s bound to her best friend who won’t let her make any real adapts.  
  
“Yes, Beca. If you don’t like it, you can see yourself out.”  
  
You scoff and roll your eyes, but you stay in place until Aubrey counts down and then you’re doing the same, damn dance you’ve been doing since day one.

* * *

  
  
After an entire day of boring classes, you get groceries and prepare an easy dinner before getting to work on your set list for Kevin. You had the idea during one of your classes to make a mix with all the hits of the year, since the gig would be on New Year’s Eve and you think something like that would strike with the audience and Kevin.  
  
With your plate of potatoes in hand, you open your laptop and start to look for a list of all the songs that came out this year. You categorize them by chord progression, so you know which tempo you’d have to adjust to make them flow into each other accordingly, which beat you can put underneath it that would be fitting.  
  
An hour into your playlist and you’ve got yourself a good start. You’re thinking about seeing Kevin later tonight, so he can decide what he thinks about it and you’ll go from there.  
  
A pair of hands cover your sight, causing you to flinch, but you recognize their size and scent.  
  
“Guess who?” You hear a bubbly voice giggle in your ear.  
  
“Santa Claus?” You deadpan sarcastically.  
  
Chloe’s hands move to the side of your face and she tilts your head so she can place her lips on your mouth. “How was your day?” She asks as she drops her bags and disappears into the closet.  
  
“Fine. Have you eaten yet?”  
  
Chloe says she hasn’t, so you heat up the plate you had set apart for her earlier this evening. While you’re in the small kitchen, you let the work you’ve done in the past hour echo through the room instead of your headphones.  
  
Chloe appears again, in sweatpants and one of your band shirts, dancing happily across the room. “New?” She yells to be heard over the music.  
  
You simply nod while testing to see if the food is warm again. Your girlfriend throws her arms around your neck and dismisses the plate. “I’m sorry about Aubrey today.” She says honest as her hips continue to sway to the beat.  
  
“It’s not like I expected anything less.” Your hands connect on the sides of her body like magnets.  
  
“You were right, for what it’s worth. I could do so much more choreography-wise.”  
  
You wish she would say that to her best friend, in front of the group. You wish she would stand up for whatever she supports, but instead she continues to stay in her friend’s shadow and let her control everything.  
  
“Oh, did you get tampons?”  
  
“No.” You say confused.  
  
“Becs, you can’t text me if I need anything and then not get that.” Chloe says disappointed as she grabs her plate and takes a seat on the bed.  
  
“I forgot to check my phone!” You say defensively. “I’ll go get it later. I have to go to Kevin tonight anyway.”  
  
“Can I come?!” Chloe’s enthusiasm is overwhelming, but you see that devilish way her lips curl.  
  
“Why?” You ask untrusting as you study the girl’s face.  
  
“Because, Becs, I haven’t seen you all day.” Chloe says innocent, but the pout is overdoing it and your suspicion grows. “I’ve missed you.”  
  
“No, you haven’t.” You scoff in disbelief, but your girlfriend nods truthfully with her satisfied smile, pushing you to give in, but you see a dark shimmer in her light blue viewers that gives her secret away. “No!” You reply to the question she didn’t ask.  
  
“Come on, you can talk to Kevin and I’ll have a drink and dance to a couple of songs!”  
  
You sigh and drop your body onto the bed, knowing you’re going to lose this fight no matter what. “You can come, but we’re not staying.” You try nonetheless.  
  
Chloe’s hand travels over your stomach while she finishes her food and eventually disregards her plate. “Of course I’m coming, I’m not letting you go to a club full of innocent bystanders by yourself. You look way too sexy.” Chloe says as she makes her way onto your body, straddling your legs and hovering over you.  
  
You still have to get used to the compliments Chloe throws at you, slipping out of her mouth without a second thought, easily and severely hitting you.  
  
“It’s seven p.m. on a Tuesday, I don’t think there’ll be people at all.” Your fingers pull at the clothes she has on, wondering how she can look so good in something that belongs to you.  
  
Chloe laughs bright before hopping off of your body and disappearing once again in the closet, saying how she has to get ready for the night.  
  
You shake your head and roll your eyes at no one in particular.  
  
_This is gonna take a while.  
_

* * *

  
  
“That’s awesome, Becs! Of course you’re getting the gig.”  
  
The walk towards your boss’ club is just long enough for you to tell your girlfriend about New Year’s Eve and what your plans are for the set list. Now that you’ve said it out loud and gained a positive reaction from Chloe, you feel somehow more comfortable and at ease with your idea.  
  
Usually you don’t have a reason behind putting two songs together. Kevin doesn’t ask that of you, so you hope he’ll like it this time. Even if he doesn’t, you hope the songs you mixed are good on its own.  
  
“I don’t know, he knows some great DJs.” You’re usually quite confident in your work, but this competition for New Year’s Eve is making you insecure. You remember the DJ you met in Flashin’ during your gig there. DJ Dax, or Daniel, was way better than you. And he didn’t even play the night shift.  
  
Some of the best DJs of the state play in Flashin’ and Kevin knows most of them. The larger and more popular club can also only give the night to one DJ, which means the rest is open and available to play in Kevin’s club.  
  
You just have to work harder than any of them and show your boss you’re better.  
  
Chloe tugs at the hand she’s been holding since you stepped out of the building and stops you in your tracks, a few feet away from the entrance of the club where you work. “He knows _you_ and he knows you deserve it. He’ll give it to you. He’d be a fool not to.” Her smile is honest and kind, her eyes locked on yours as if she’s waiting for you to agree with her.  
  
You don’t know if you do, but she believes in you, so maybe you should, too.  
  
You smile back in gratitude and kiss her lips before entering the club. The two of you separate and you don’t like how cold your hand feels without hers in it.  
  
“Superstar!”  
  
You do a weird, arrogant shrug which turns into a 360 spin, making the man laugh with your actions.  
  
“What brings you by on this fine Tuesday evening?” Kevin asks as he puts some paperwork to the side and focuses on you instead.  
  
“Figured I’d come check how you survived the weekend without me.”  
  
“We missed you, but we certainly didn’t miss that attitude.”  
  
Kevin tells you about the weekend before you explain your real reason for coming here. You let him hear the music first, which he seems to like. Then you make it clear that you’re planning to mix all the hits of the year and turn it into one, long, well-mashed song.  
  
Your boss thinks it’s a good plan, but wonders if you can keep that up all night. You hadn’t actually thought of that yet.  
  
“I think two hours might be all you can get out of it.”  
  
“Okay, so I do that from ten until midnight, since most people will be in by then and I’ll be playing all the hits of the year, so it makes sense to stop at midnight, right? Then after the countdown, I’ll do what I always do. Fast beats, catchy tracks. Only beats that the people can jump to and nothing less.”  
  
Kevin runs his hand over his jaw and rubs his upcoming facial hair in contemplation. He starts nodding slightly and you know you’ve convinced him. “I’m not giving it to you yet.” He says, probably due to your smug smile.  
  
“Yet.” You repeat with your head tilted arrogant.  
  
“I’ll make a decision next week. I’m gonna need a completed version of that two-hour mix and without flaws this time.” Kevin says serious, and you know he means it. You can tell by the way his eyes are wide and locked on yours.  
  
“Yes, sir.” You lift yourself from the chair and head towards the door. “Oh, one thing.” You remember quickly before you’ve exited the man’s office. “If I do get it, I’m gonna need people added to the guest list.  
  
“We sold out weeks ago, Beca.” Kevin sighs disappointed as he rubs his left temple, knowing the request wasn’t a question. “How many?”  
  
“Eight.” You state proud.

* * *

  
  
You find Chloe in the middle of the dancefloor, rocking out to the tracks of the newest DJ in the club. It’s not hard to reach her, because there can’t be more than a few dozen people dancing this early on in the evening.  
  
Chloe’s a great dancer. More than that, she’s an easy dancer. She will move to any beat she hears, picking it up in an instant and somehow she always does this in the most sexy way there exists. You’re not at all surprised she’s in the middle of the crowd, people staring and cheering her on as she drops to the floor, her hips swaying continuously and smooth, her arms moving along above her head before she bounces back up again, this all with a drink in her left hand.  
  
You take the glass from her hand as an announcement that you’re back. “Gross, what is this?!” You complain as the fruity drink travels over your taste buds.  
  
“It’s _mine_.” Chloe takes the drink back, never missing a beat with her body movements as she kisses your lips quick.  
  
A guy in the crowd starts to cheer loudly at the act, to which you death glare at him until he looks away.  
  
“What did Kevin say?” Chloe speaks in your ear, but she keeps her body close to yours even after she’s finished her sentence.  
  
It’s so much harder to concentrate or form words when your girlfriend is up this close, her dancing body brushing against yours with her chosen outfit allowing you a great view.  
  
“Is he letting you play New Year’s Eve?” Chloe asks as her arms fall over your shoulders.  
  
“He’s deciding next week.” Your body follows Chloe’s lead, but your movements stay minimal. “I did request he’d change the guest list if he chooses me.”  
  
You watch your girlfriend jump up in excitement while her eyes grow in size and her face lights up. “You’re finally letting me watch you play!” The girl yells out without hesitation, her lips connecting to yours shortly after her happy outburst.  
  
“Yes, but I’m not really comfortable with you dancing here alone, like _that_ , while I’m up there.” You say laughing while Chloe dances even more sexual. “So I got the rest of the Bellas on the list, too.”  
  
The noise that comes out of your girlfriend’s mouth could be considered as inaudible words or an imitation of an animal in pain.  
  
“It’s gonna be the best night ever!” Chloe yells as she hugs you tightly to her chest.  
  
With one hand on the girl’s back, you’d like to consider your act as hugging her back. When she releases you, her eyes are watering and she’s waving her one free hand in front of her face as if that will make them dry again. “Oh my God, don’t you dare.” You threaten, but your voice has no real danger to it and you can feel your lips tucking disgustingly far up. “Don’t!” You try again, this time more amused than threatening, but you already see a tear slipping out of her eye and streaming over her cheek.  
  
“I’m just so happy!” Chloe says as she wipes the single tear away.  
  
The words combined with the girl’s shown emotions hit you somewhere in your chest, but instead of hurting you, the hit makes you feel a state of bliss.  
  
“I’m going to call all of them.” Chloe says, her voice still cracked and vulnerable but just as excited as before.  
  
“Maybe not now.” You say smiling as you take her face in your hands and catch a few stray tears. You don’t think anyone else would cry over an invitation while standing in the middle of the dancefloor, but it’s so like Chloe to do exactly that.  
  
You feel a weird kind of appreciation for the girl and the complete and honest way she works. The bravery and vulnerability in everything she does. It still amazes you.  
  
“You’re less attractive when you cry.” You joke, despite the things you feel in your chest and stomach caused by the woman right in front of you.  
  
“Shut up.” Chloe says as she bursts out in laughter, her hand on her face to cover her blush. When her eyes finally find yours, she smiles softly and closes the gap between you, her arms wrapped around your head as her teeth scrape over your bottom lip.  
  
“Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

  
  
After returning from the club and a small make out session with your girlfriend, Chloe finds her rest more in your bed than her own, which is the reason you have trouble finding any at all.  
  
You feel stupid. You’re mostly just angry with yourself, because you’re being irrational. You’re happy with the girl. You like having her around. You really do. But you still feel trapped at times, the night being one of them.  
  
You’ve never had someone sleeping in your bed before, let alone multiple nights in a row and too close for you to breathe. You thought it was just something you had to go through, but it seems you’re not getting used to it.  
  
You have had relationships in the past. Nothing to a serious extent, nothing longer than a few months, nothing that required you to open up, let them in, push past your insecurities in favor of keeping them around.  
  
You always made sure to leave before that.  
  
You never cared about the person you were dating as much as you currently care about Chloe. You were never open to trying to put yourself out there as much as you’re willing to try for this girl.  
  
But just because you’re willing and ready, unfortunately, that doesn’t do anything to the fears in your head, forcing you to doubt if you can do this.  
  
You have been quite dependent on yourself and only yourself for most of the passing years. You learned to live without not only a mother, but also a father. You got used to doing things alone, figuring everything out without ever asking for help.  
  
One of your fears is getting used to having Chloe around, growing attached to her, perhaps even _needing_ her to get through the day.  
  
Or maybe the real fear is that you’re already past that point. You look forward to see her. You know her schedule for the most part, you know how many hours left in class you have until you can go home to her. You would never admit it to Chloe’s face, but you love the way she openly flirts with you, the way she has no problem showing everyone in the room she’s into you and you sometimes catch yourself expecting her to at times. Waiting for it. Wanting it.  
  
You have already pushed yourself a lot, which is why it’s not her sleeping body close beside you that scares you, even though getting used to her touch took you months on its own.  
  
The beds feel like a representation of the two of you.  
  
You were forced to realize how close and attached you are to the person you’ve just started dating. The relationship is only a few days in and this is the closest you’ve ever been with another person. Chloe knows you, some things you’ve told her willingly, others she seemed to have figured out on her own, but you had allowed it.  
  
And that’s scary.  
  
But you’re not going to stop trying. Even when the doubting thoughts make you feel like a container filled with destructive substances, you’re gonna fight through them and do whatever you can to make them disappear, whether that will lead to peace or an explosion, you don’t know.  
  
Honestly, there’s a fifty-fifty chance of either happening.  


* * *

 

* * *

  
  
  
Dating Beca Mitchell couldn’t have been more perfect if you were to write the scenario yourself.  
  
She has been nothing but great throughout everything. She’s helped you out with your art project, she’s been compliant during Bellas practices, she’s taken you out for dinner and the sex is even better than before, which you didn’t know to be possible.  
  
Together with your recent development and newfound motivation and love for art, it’s safe to say you’re having the best week of your life.  
  
Whenever Beca’s not around, you try to focus on your upcoming midterms or your drawings for Paul’s class, but your girlfriend occupies almost every free space in your head and makes it impossible for you to get anything done.  
  
You think about her a lot. About the way she smiles, laughs, shrugs, rolls her eyes.  
  
You don’t think you can ever get enough of those looks.  
  
The days fly by, just like all great times, and it’s the weekend before you know it. You’re able to bribe Beca to take you to the zoo in exchange for giving up the driver’s seat of your muscle car.  
  
_You’re completely fine with Beca driving, but she doesn’t have to know that.  
_  
Except Beca gets lost and you don’t spend the afternoon watching adorable animals, you’re stuck watching your cute girlfriend get frustrated over closed-off roads.  
  
“Why the fuck can’t I get off here?! What idiot came up with this?”  
  
“Just admit you don’t know where we are, Becs.”  
  
“I do know where we are, Beale. I just can’t get to where I need to go, because some asshole has closed off all these exits.”  
  
“Sure, babe.”  
  
Beca continues to curse and complain while driving, which is strangely entertaining to watch, you learn. Anyone else experiencing this kind of road rage would intimidate you, making you uneasy or afraid to talk, but it’s fun to make fun of Beca, especially when she’s like this.  
  
“You’re cute when you’re lost.”  
  
“I am _not_ lost.”  
  
While Beca searches for the zoo, you sing along to the music playing on the radio and you allow your hands to stray towards your girlfriend’s seat, from massaging her neck to using her hand as a microphone, and your favorite thing; pulling her face away from the road to kiss her lips.  
  
“Goddamnit, Chlo, I’m trying to drive here.” Beca complains, but she kisses you back and you feel her lips curling against yours.  
  
Eventually, after an hour and a half long ride that’s supposed to be twenty minutes, you arrive at the zoo and you spend the rest of the day running around, trying to spot as many animals as you can in the remaining opening hours of the park.  
  
You buy Beca a tiny, stuffed red panda in the gift shop, since you saw her eyes light up upon finding the charming animal with its kitten-like face, bright fur and ringed tail. She had tried to conceal her endearing face from you at first, but when two pandas started to playfully chase one another, your girlfriend lost every hard edge and toughness she contained, exchanging it for an adorable laugh and shiny eyes.  
  
With the gift in hand, you look for your small girlfriend in the gift shop, but you don’t see her anywhere. You head outside and spot a familiar figure standing in line at the coffee shop. You run over to the building where Beca is in, standing behind her and lightly tapping her shoulder as the stuffed animal rests in your hand.  
  
Beca turns at the silent request and your eye falls onto the item in her hands while hers do the exact same. Reality sets in that you both bought each other something, and you can’t help the smile forming on your face.  
  
Your girlfriend just shakes her head and snatches the panda from your hand. “Of course you did.” She laughs with a roll of her eye before handing you the item in her hands.  
  
“For me?” You ask flattered, to which Beca hums and turns back in line. It’s a white mug with cute drawings on it and words that read _‘I like you and coffee’_ in black, cursive letters across the cup. “You don’t like coffee, Becs!” You yelp out a little too loud for the quiet shop.  
  
“I know, that’s why it’s for you.”  
  
“So I like _you_ and coffee?”  
  
“I’m never getting you anything ever again.” Beca complains grumpy before ordering your go-to drink and a hot chocolate for herself.  
  
You spend another thirty minutes wandering around the park with your plastic cup of hot coffee in hand before leaving and heading home, this time keeping the drive under an hour. You have dinner at a fast food restaurant in lack of something better, promising yourself you’ll get these carbs worked off at Bellas practice tomorrow morning.  
  
That night is the first night you fall asleep without Beca’s body next to you.  
  
You had tried to minimize the hours. You had put on some music and started to paint your previously made drawing, but by two a.m. you couldn’t force your eyes to stay open any longer.  
  
The bed feels cold and empty without Beca, and it takes you two times longer to fall asleep than usual.

* * *

  
  
“We should do something special tonight.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because! It’s our one-week anniversary.”  
  
“Oh, you’re one of those.”  
  
You hadn’t realized today was your anniversary until the end of Bellas practice. You had wanted to run straight to your dorm room to find Beca, but it wasn’t even ten o’clock yet and she didn’t get home until six a.m. this Sunday morning, so you went for coffee with Bree and Stacie first, followed by an early lunch with the couple.  
  
At your arrival back at your dorm, Beca was, to your surprise, up and about. Semi-dressed, even.  
  
“One of what?”  
  
“One of those who count the days and celebrate the weeks.”  
  
You lose your jacket and kiss your girlfriend’s lips before handing over a bag containing a packed lunch.  
  
“Well, this is the first week, so I think I’m allowed to celebrate.” You state cheerfully as you watch Beca digging her teeth into the sandwich, chewing a few hard times before swallowing what used to be half of her sandwich.  
  
“Why? Didn’t think we’d make it one week?” Beca speaks almost inaudible due to the food in her mouth, but the smug smile helps with figuring out what she said.  
  
“Don’t joke about that, Becs! That’s bad luck.”  
  
Beca rolls her eyes as she finishes her lunch and gets back to drying her wet hair. “Oh, John wants to know why you haven’t been replying to his texts.”  
  
“You’ve been texting with my brother?” You ask surprised. Back in Kansas, the two got along great, but you didn’t think Beca would want to stay in contact with him.  
  
Beca just shrugs casually and starts to sing along to the music that’s playing. “So what’s the plan?”  
  
You start to explain how there’s a cute, little karaoke bar just a couple blocks away from campus, but Beca groans loudly in disagreement. “That’s my offer, Becs. If you have a better one, let me know.”  
  
“I can come up with a hundred ideas better than yours.” Beca argues, but she doesn’t give you a single one, pretending she doesn’t notice you’re waiting for her plan.  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“Like anything.” Beca shrugs uncaring.  
  
“Fine, Becs. You have until tonight to come up with something, otherwise, you better go buy a pink microphone with glitters and learn the lyrics from every ‘90s pop song ever produced.”  
  
“So basically Bellas practice?”  
  
You go into the closet to grab some sheets of paper and lay them on the desk where the rest of your necessities are. You watch how Beca finishes her makeup before throwing her the jacket that’s thrown over the chair. “You’re gonna need that, it’s cold out.”  
  
“I’m not going anywhere.” Beca answers confused when her hands have caught the item.  
  
Stacie told you during lunch that she made plans with Beca to hang out some time, but that the tiny rebel never got back to her about that. Stacie wasn’t insulted or offended. She knows how Beca works by now. But you would like to see the two of them bond outside of the girl group.  
  
Stacie is extremely bright and funny. She’s always up for a good time and she speaks her mind unfiltered. All of those are reason enough for Beca to get along with the tall, attractive woman. Beca likes honest people who aren’t too serious and are comfortable with her weird sense of humor. And Stacie loves to embarrass people and talk about sex, so that’s two birds with one stone.  
  
“She wanted to go for drinks. It’s just past noon on a Sunday!”  
  
You shrug like that’s no issue for Stacie, which you know it isn’t.  
  
“Besides, I’m supposed to meet Jesse later. Although I’d take Stacie and alcohol over Jesse and his movies any day.”  
  
Beca hangs around the room for a little while longer while you get started on an idea you’ve had in mind and been meaning to put to paper. Your girlfriend tries to gain your attention, first with her hands roaming your body, then with her eyes simply drilling into the side of your face. Eventually, she gives up and takes a chair to sit next to you.  
  
Beca takes a piece of paper and a pencil, turns ninety degrees, lets her arm rest on the back of the chair while she studies your face and starts to put her pen to paper.  
  
“What are you doing?” You ask curious.  
  
“Sit still.” Beca orders simply as her eyes stay on your face and her hand moves over the sheet.  
  
You feel delight and pleasure bubbling through your stomach and chest as you realize Beca is drawing you. You don’t actually know if she’s any good at that. So far, Beca has taken you by surprise with many of her talents and skills.  
  
Of course you forgot one of her skills is being a huge ass.  
  
Beca turns her paper and you see that it’s not a portrait at all. In big, childlike-decorated letters, it says; ‘Stop working and start kissing me’. She’s even went the lengths of putting happy and smiling emotions in the corners and her cheeky smile hiding behind the piece of paper makes you feel like you’re being lifted out of your chair, a sense of weightless comes when you see Beca’s eyes shine and her lips smile the way they do.  
  
“Oh my God, you’re the worst, Becs!”  
  
“What? You don’t like it? I have a little abstract art hidden in the letters.” Beca says as her fingers point you to what she’s talking about, but all you have eyes for is the way her face looks when she’s having fun the way she is right now.  
  
“It’s perfect.”  
  
You take your girlfriend’s face in your hands and softly kiss her lips, wondering how she gets you laughing with every little thing she does.  
  
Mid-kiss, Stacie comes barging into the room and breaks up the moment.  
  
“What’s up, lovebirds? You’re not having sex without me, are you?”  
  
Beca looks like she’s both confused and afraid at the same time. “All of our sex is without you.” You hear your girlfriend mumble under her breath.  
  
“Hey, Stace. Look what Beca made me!” You hold up the paper and ignore the sigh that leaves your friend.  
  
“That’s why I think we’re gonna have a good time, eyeline-monster. If you can get a line like that to work on a girl like Chlo,-“ Stacie stops speaking to wink at you and let her eyes fall over your body. You just proudly show yourself off while waiting for the girl to continue. “-I think I can learn a thing or two from you. And I can definitely teach you some things. You’re welcome, Red.” Stacie’s says, her words dripping with a sexual undertone. “So, you ready?”  
  
Beca looks at you for help, like a child looking at their mom to make up an excuse to why they can’t go on a playdate with a certain kid in school, but you know your two friends will get along great. “Have fun, girls!”  
  
Beca shoots you an angry look, but she moves willingly past Stacie and towards the door.  
  
“So what do you think of handcuffs during sex?” You hear the tall girl ask before she shoots you a wink and closes the door behind her.  
  
You end up laughing for a solid minute before getting back to work.  
  
After a few different sketches for Paul’s upcoming class, you decide to take a creative detour and draw something that’s not for class.  
  
Half an hour later and you’re staring at a pair of eyes you’ve put to paper. You could never do justice to Beca’s eyes. They are so telling and beautiful, there’s no way you could capture their beauty with a pencil or anything for that matter.  
  
But it’s fun to try.  
  
When you hear footsteps heading into the direction of your dorm and the way they impact the ground underneath them, something you’ve come to know so well, you hide the sheet at the back of your sketchbook and go back to your previous drawings.  
  
Beca opens the door a second or two later and drops heavily to the beds.  
  
“How was your afternoon?” You ask amusing while putting your work down and taking a seat at the edge of the bed.  
  
“Oh, it was fine.” Beca turns to her back and pushes her body up from the mattress. “I think that..” Beca’s eyes doubtingly dart around the room while she searches for the rest of the sentence. “Yeah, I definitely need therapy after that.”  
  
“You’re so dramatic.” You giggle as you lay down beside Beca and watch her while she gives you the highlights of the topics Stacie choose to discuss.  
  
“-And now I’m supposed to meet Jesse. You know, I gotta say, Beale. I am not a fan of this normal, social, humanly behavior.”  
  
Beca hangs around the room for another half an hour, listening to you chat and kissing you occasionally. Eventually, she leaves the room again to meet her male friend and you decide to exchange the pencil for a paintbrush.  
  
You play one of Beca’s playlists while you get to work, which gets interrupted twice by callers. First Sarah to ask for guy-advice on Noah, the guy she’s been seeing but not officially seeing, something you’re sadly quite experienced in.  
  
After that, Aubrey calls you to discuss certain things regarding the Bellas and you end up talking to her for over an hour about all kinds of things while you’re also focused on your painting at hand. Finally, you decide to just meet up and you spend the rest of the afternoon focusing on the upcoming midterms with your best friend.  
  
Aubrey casually mentions your girlfriend and her continuous desire to resist against her authority within the female group a few times, but you know better than to get into that. Beca is her own person and so is Bree. They can fight all they want, but you’re not picking sides here.  
  
Aubrey and Beca are both very stubborn and hardheaded people with a mind of their own. It’s surely no wonder they clash as much as they do.  
  
After leaving your best friend’s place and finishing your painting at home, you decide to start dinner early in case Beca actually has made plans for the two of you tonight. You don’t really mind if she hasn’t, because then you’re having a nice evening with your girlfriend in a karaoke bar, which is perfectly fine by you.  
  
You’re in the middle of cooking dinner when your tiny roommate comes bursting through the door. It takes you a second to get your eyes off of her beautiful face to see what’s in her hand.  
  
“Here.” Beca says as she stretches out her arm and hands you the flowers she’s holding.  
  
“For me?” You ask touched as you scan the gorgeous, yellow tulips your girlfriend bought you.  
  
“Yeah, I didn’t actually know if you like flowers.” Beca says uncertain and borderline cold as she loses her winter coat and throws it on the bed.  
  
“They’re perfect, Beca.” With your hand tugging at your girlfriend’s shirt and your pursed lips, Beca gets the message and moves close enough for you to peck her lips in gratitude. She kisses you back, but it feels off and you can’t shake the feeling that Beca seems unhappy.  
  
You wonder what happened in the few hours since you last saw her. When she was laughing and kissing, making goofy jokes and seeming like the happiest you’ve ever seen her.  
  
“That smells good.” Beca says with a sympathetic smile, as if she can tell you’re worried.  
  
Feeling like whatever’s going on isn’t something the girl wants to discuss, you let it go and find a vase for the flowers. “How’s Jesse?”  
  
“Good.” Beca replies tired as she lets herself fall to bed and kick her shoes from her feet.  
  
You put the gift in water and place it on the desk in the room, for lack of better places. You move back to the kitchen, feeling somewhat unsettled by the unspoken words and the very present tension in the room. It feels like you’re waiting for Beca to drop the bomb.  
  
“Jesse told me about this movie that’s just out, so I called the movie theatre and got us two tickets for tonight.”  
  
The combination of Beca’s flat voice and the empty look in her dark eyes, it’s like watching all the pieces of the puzzle connect and fit into one scary-looking picture. You wonder how you couldn’t see it earlier. “Why?” The word leaves you in a short scoff.  
  
Beca pushes herself into a seated position and her questioning eyes drill into you, but you’re in need of an answer. You watch her gulp and her inability to explain herself puts her in a weirdly vulnerable state. “Because you wanted to do something.” The girl says confused and with a laugh, as if you’re still oblivious to her feelings. As if you haven’t just figured it all out.  
  
“You don’t like movies.”  
  
“So?”  
  
“So why would we go to a movie theatre?”  
  
“Isn’t that a thing people do?”  
  
You sigh and take the heat off of the still uncooked food to make your way over to where Beca’s placed, sitting down in front of her as she ignores your gaze and plays with her fingers. “Beca, what’s going on?”  
  
The girl quickly meets your eye in offense, ready for a snarky comment to shut you out. Instead, she shakes her head and sighs, it’s as if her fists fall weakly beside her body, and you know you have her pushed into a place where she can get hurt, a place where she’s defenseless, powerless, weak perhaps. She lets you see inside, guard and walls completely down, fragile to your touch.  
  
But she doesn’t speak.  
  
You realize that the fact that she’s not speaking means more than words ever could, because there’s no sarcasm or wit involved to cover up her vulnerability. And you don’t really need her to use her words, because you understand her silence. The sad look in her eyes and the way she seems defeated tell you enough.  
  
How could you not have seen this before?  
  
You were so happy this past week, it blinded you to see Beca’s unsettlement. The intervals and discomfort in her sentences. You missed all the signs you usually pick up and read like words.  
  
“I’m sorry.” You finally say, feeling the guilt and blame roaming disgustingly fast through your stomach.  
  
“Why are you sorry?” Beca asks confused, her eyes locking onto yours.  
  
“Because I was so caught up in myself and I was so happy, I didn’t realize I was making you uncomfortable. I never meant for you to do anything you’re not okay with, Becs.”  
  
Beca’s hands connect to your thighs as she seeks eye contact. When you allow yourself to look at her, she’s smiling as if you just told her a bad joke. “It’s just a movie.” Beca laughs, pinching the skin on your legs as she speaks. “I’m sure I can survive that.”  
  
“No, we’re not going to see a movie.” You state as you get off the bed and dry your watery eyes. You might’ve made some mistakes, but you’re not gonna waste any more time to undo them. Starting with the layout of the room. “We’re not going to do anything we don’t want.” You bend your knees and wrap your hands around the bedframe before pulling it back to its original place in the room.  
  
“Beale, it’s just a movie and-, Jesus, how are you this strong?” Beca asks as she clings to the moving bed.  
  
You pull and push until the bed is where it should be, where it shouldn’t have been moved from, where it doesn’t harm your friend. “I just wanted you, Beca. And I went a little crazy this week, but I still just want you. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or doing things you think I want you to do. I don’t want flowers or you spending two hours in a movie theatre watching something you hate.”  
  
Beca moves to her knees, pulling you by the hands back onto the bed and kissing your lips when you’re within her reach. “You do have me.” She whispers sweetly.  
  
“I know, but I don’t want you to feel like what you give me isn’t enough. I love all the little things you do, like the coffee mug and that drawing you just made for me.” You pause simply due to the very fact that Beca starts to laugh and it comforts you to know she’s still here, laughing, not unsettled or running away.  
  
But you know you have to say these words, have to make sure Beca hears them, even if they might be a little too late.  
  
“You don’t have to buy me flowers because you feel like you’re supposed to. And we don’t have to go to the movies just because everyone else does. We’ve never been like other people, we’re not starting now. I’m not going to right all your wrongs or fix your flaws, just like you’re not going to take my breath away or sweep me off my feet. We can just be us and do things together that we like. I want to go dancing with you, or have a nice meal together, or get drinks somewhere. Or just stay in this room and watch you mix your songs. I just want to be around you, I want to kiss you, and I’m sorry I-“  
  
“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Beca scoffs laughingly, her hands roaming the side of your face which works surprisingly calming. The girl keeps her eyes on you until you relax your muscles and allow air back into your lungs.  
  
You don’t know how you got so lucky with this girl. Beca has been great, even when you go crazy and push her into a zone of discomfort, she still stays, calming you down. You wonder what you did to deserve her.  
  
But you know one thing; you’re never letting her go.  
  
“So I don’t take your breath away, huh?” Beca smiles playfully, her tongue poking out between her teeth as her eyes stay locked on you.  
  
You can’t help but laugh, your head resting on Beca’s shoulder as you recompose yourself. “I never said you didn’t.” You reply with your usual boldness, not afraid to turn Beca’s cheeks into a different color.  
  
But you aren’t granted the time to admire your amazing view, because Beca’s moving in and you close your eyes, awaiting her lips that hit you a second later.  
  
“Thank you.” You whisper when Beca pulls away, your foreheads resting against each other with your arms around your girlfriend’s neck.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Everybody is a main character to someone." -Amy Harmon
> 
> /

Over the course of the rest of the week, you started to feel less like a ticking time bomb ready to destruct and more like you were getting defused, slow but surely, one wire after another getting cut and preventing you from detonation.  
  
You still felt uncomfortable at times, but when you realized Chloe wasn’t forcing you to hold her in her sleep or any physical contact for that matter, you were able to breathe again. Most nights, Chloe’s hand in yours was the only contact there was, and you actually liked that.  
  
You had thought you’d be okay, that you were starting to get used to these dynamics and you were still the same person you were a week ago. Even the new layout of the room wasn’t a slap across your face anymore. It was actually growing on you.  
  
You started to find comfort within the newfound relationship. It was always there, you just had trouble seeing it with these insecurities and doubts blurring your view. But they were washing away and by the time Sunday arrived, you started to actually feel comfortable in the relationship you had built with Chloe over the week.  
  
It took you some getting used to, but the sky was clearing and you found yourself wanting nothing more but to try your hardest to make this relationship work.  
  
For a moment there in between laughs and kisses shared in the room belonging to you and Chloe, you thought everything would be okay from here on out. Looking back on it, you should have just stayed in that room, but you didn’t.  
  
You met up with Jesse Sunday late afternoon in his dorm upon his request, where he started to play you movie soundtracks he only just discovered. His enthusiasm lasted for a good half an hour and then he seemed to remember what he had been a witness to a few days ago in Luke’s record store.  
  
You were forced to admit you’re dating Chloe, which you will never get used to saying, and Jesse happily pulled you into a weird side-hug on his bed.  
  
“Beca, this is huge! Do you have a plan? You need a plan!”  
  
“A plan for what?”  
  
“A plan to court her, to woo her! Have you not been paying attention to the movies I’ve showed you? Girls like Chloe want to be impressed, surprised, treated like a princess.”  
  
“You don’t know Chloe.” Your defenses went up and you wanted to push him away, to tell him to mind his own business, hurt his feelings by bringing up the fact that he doesn’t know how women work just because he watches them in films. Somehow, you didn’t and you kept your insults to yourself.  
  
The boy continued to try to convince you of his words,  but it wasn’t until you were walking home alone and passing the small flower shop that you stopped and foolishly let Jesse’s words affect you. All the dumb movies he forced you to watch suddenly got into your head and you hate how persuasive Jesse’s words can be.  
  
You stand there and contemplate what you’re about to do when you realize how painfully ironic this situation is.  
  
You don’t even remember how many weeks went by since you watched another girl stand where you stand now, panic and uncertainty in her eyes as she was picking out flowers for the girl you’re currently dating.  
  
Now you’re doing the exact same.  
  
Perhaps you look even more unsettled than Hannah had back then. You had looked at her with joy that day, smiling to yourself about how much of an idiot she was as you had walked home. You quickly check the premises, but nobody’s watching you like you did with the art student that day.  
  
You angrily and literally shake the worries off of you and you grab the first flowers you can get your hands on, not in the mood to spend time contemplating whether or not Chloe will like them. You’re not interested in staying in the same humorous position that’s been previously claimed by Hannah.  
  
You walk home with the dumb flowers hanging stupidly in your hand.  
  
You try to rationalize your actions. If Jesse’s right and Chloe will like these kind of things, then it doesn’t really matter how stupid it makes you feel. You can buy flowers if the girl wants flowers. You can do anything if it’s what she wants, if it keeps her with you.  
  
Still, it can’t make you feel better about the whole situation. It feels weird and unlike you to do something like this and you think Chloe will know it, too.  
  
Without another second thought, you enter your building and eventually the room you share with your girlfriend. She’s in the kitchen in nothing but a white t-shirt that’s too big for her size, paint stains covering them as her eyes land on you happily.  
  
Upon finding her, you feel even more stupid and nervous about your act, so you quickly hand her the flowers and try to compose yourself while losing your jacket, hoping that as long as you don’t face her, she won’t see through you.  
  
It works for a minute or two, but as soon as you hear the girl sigh and watch her make her way over to you, you know you’re busted.  
  
Chloe sees through your layers of sarcasm and fake-anger. She always has, and she probably always will. This past week being the exception where at times she was too happy and unfocused on you to notice, but you’re kind of glad that seems to be changing again.  
  
You’ve never been one to handle words in a situation like this. A situation where your girlfriend is waiting for you to explain what’s going on. How can you explain that your dumb friend and his movies got inside your head and you did something that’s so unlike you, because you thought she wanted it and you’d do anything for her?  
  
It’s already scary enough that you have no problem admitting that to yourself.  
  
You’d do anything for her.  
  
You’re not even trying to find words to fill the silence. You’re simply praying Chloe will start talking soon, because you have nothing to give at this point. However, when she does, the words are not what you expected.  
  
“Why are you sorry?”  
  
You were expecting questions. Or guesses. Her view on why you bought flowers and made reservations at the local movie theatre. You weren’t prepared for words reflecting on Chloe herself.  
  
“-I never meant for you to do anything you’re not okay with, Becs.”  
  
The words are honest and painful to hear, because Chloe hasn’t changed since the first day you met her. She’s still the sweet girl that doesn’t force you to change. Doesn’t even want you to. You feel a sense of guilt washing over you that you made her feel bad for something as stupid as a movie. A movie you’d very willingly sit through if only she said she’d want you to.  
  
You try to bring Chloe back to earth and erase the heaviness coming from this conversation, but your girlfriend is suddenly relentless and she starts to put the room back to its original state before going off into the most adorable rant about how she didn’t mean for you to be uncomfortable.  
  
To be honest, the discomfort brought onto you by the beds lasted no more than a few seconds. Anything after that was just insecurities and the unknown. Unfortunately, those lasted more than a few seconds.  
  
With a stupid joke and a kiss, you get the girl smiling again.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
“I swear to God, only you could spent ten minutes apologizing and ending it with a thank you. Both are, by the way, supposed to be coming from me.” You say as you sit back down on the bed, your legs folded underneath you as Chloe copies your actions. “I am the one who’s sorry.” You decide Chloe deserves to hear those words, no matter how vulnerable they make you feel.  
  
“I know you’ve been forced to deal with a lot of things on your own and you’re kind of used to it.” Chloe speaks slow as her hands reach out to you, one hand caresses the top of yours while the other stroke the inside of your arm. “But you have me now. And you can always talk to me.”  
  
“I know. I’m just weird with that stuff.”  
  
Chloe’s eyes find you, first sympathetic and understanding before their usual joy shines through them again. “I know. But next time I do something crazy like push our beds together, you can just tell me. You can be like, _‘wow dude’_ -“ Chloe’s voice drops and turns into a low and scraping version of it. Her mouth stays open while her hands indicate for you to relax.  
  
“Is that-, I don’t sound like that!”  
  
_“Dude, not cool! I’m not down with this, dude!”  
_  
“I don’t say dude that much.” You downplay while you watch your girlfriend act out her play accompanied by her hands, throwing finger guns and peace signs at you, as if you’ve ever done that before.  
  
_“Yo, you better put those beds back where they came from!”  
_  
“Why do I sound like an annoying, self-righteous man?” You say insulted while secretly enjoying this game.  
  
“That’s what you sound like, Becs.” Chloe’s giggling and bubbly tone is back, her knees bouncing on the bed as her lips curl in pleasure.  
  
“I sound nothing like that, I don’t know what that just was.” You say as you pull your girlfriend towards you and turn her in one quick move to lay her on her back, surprised by the sudden limited surface of the single bed again.  
  
“You want to hear another impression?” Chloe asks as her hands lay in surrender above her head and her voice drowns in joy.  
  
“No.” You state simply, but you know she can tell you’re lying. You push yourself up and towards Chloe, one hand under your head and your elbow pressed into the bed to keep yourself up, giving her your full attention with eyes pushing her to continue.  
  
“Okay, hold on, I need something for this.” Chloe yelps as she jumps off of the bed and orders you to close your eyes. You do what you’re told, but with a lot of verbal complaints. After a few seconds of hearing Chloe run around the room, you finally hear her voice again, close but again in that low voice.  
  
“My name’s Beca effin’ Mitchell and I like to pretend I’m a huge badass, but I bought my girlfriend this mug that says I like her and I made her this drawing asking her to kiss me!”  
  
She never told you to open your eyes, so you didn’t get to watch her while those words escaped her, but you can observe her now. She’s wearing your sunglasses, your leather jacket and the two items she mentioned held tightly in her grip as her arms are crossed and she looks uncaring around the room, a scowl on her face that doesn’t look as intimating with her beautiful, sweetened eyes.  
  
You burst out in laughter immediately.  
  
“I really fucking hate you, you know that?”

* * *

  
  
Chloe’s apologetic and sympathetic state of being ends shortly after that and she mercilessly drags you to the karaoke bar that evening. It’s a small place just off campus, a bar in the back and the rest of the space filled with chairs facing the stage.  
  
Your girlfriend spends more time on that tiny stage than on her claimed seat next to you by the bar, but you don’t really mind. It’s quite hilarious the way Chloe makes a fool out of herself while singing her heart out. You might be on one side of the building and the girl on the outer other, it’s no secret she’s singing every song to you, from the way she points and winks at you to dramatically running up to you and falling to her knees in front of you while serenading.  
  
You’re completely fine with how the evening is going, until some sort of duet contest begins and you’re forced to join your girlfriend on the stage. Before you know it, the classic Grease song starts to play and Chloe takes the lead, not only singing but doing the appropriate steps –exaggerated- as well.  
  
You’re left with Olivia Newton-John’s share of the song, which isn’t hard to do now that your girlfriend has loosened you up, but it is quite embarrassing you know the words to this song without looking at the 20” monitor down at your feet.  
  
You end up winning the contest, which you give Chloe all the credits for, because it was the audience’s decision and you know the effect your friend has on people in general, but definitely on crowds. The bartender hands you a small, fake trophy and gives you two free drinks.  
  
“Isn’t this so much better than a boring movie?” Chloe asks smug as she bumps her shoulder against you.  
  
“Not that much, actually.” You say indifferent, but you allow your lips to form a smile while your eyes stay stuck in front of you and not on the girl next to you.  
  
“Well, I am having a great time.” Chloe states cheerful as she sips on her drink. “You can continue to pretend you’re not.”  
  
To be honest, this is ten times better than Jesse’s dumb idea about a romantic comedy in the movie theatre, but you could never admit that to the girl. If she ever found out you’re kind of enjoying yourself in a karaoke bar, you’d never hear the end of it.  
  
Chloe leaves your side a couple more times to either sing and dance on or off the small stage, but you’re comfortable right where you are. Your girlfriend is the kind of person who jumps in on someone else’s interpretation of Bohemian Rhapsody just to do the backing vocals and dance. You’re the kind of person who watches that happening from the bar with a smile on your face, still in disbelief and awe that the bubbly girl that has the ability to capture everyone’s eye in the filled room seems to only have hers set on you.

* * *

  
  
“Becs! Finally, you’re home!”  
  
Chloe jumps around your neck when you’ve only just set foot inside your room, but the contact mixed with your girlfriend’s telling scent relaxes you and you decide to dwell in the embrace for a second or two.  
  
“Long day?” The girl whispers in your ear while her arms continue to hold you.  
  
“Kind of.”  
  
“How’d lunch with your dad go?” Chloe asks carefully as she pulls herself away from you and instead runs her hands over your arms and shoulders.  
  
“It wasn’t _bad_.” You explain in lack of anything more positive. “He can just be so exhausting, you know?” You walk past your girlfriend and lose your jacket and shoes before collapsing to the beds you pushed back together approximately five hours after Chloe had separated them again.  
  
“Those things take time, Beca, but you’re both trying. It’ll get better soon.” Chloe jumps up on the counter and sips her tea while her attention stays with you.  
  
You simply nod, because you know your friend is right. You can’t expect everything to be fine again after one lunch, but it was the first time it was just you and your dad and it wasn’t awful. Little things about him annoy you, but you’re just going to have to learn how to deal with that again.  
  
“What’s going on here, by the way?” The floor is covered in opened books and notebooks, there are sheets of paper completely filled with words all around the room and at least three cups filled with coffee on the desk.  
  
“Mid-terms are coming up, Becs.”  
  
Chloe is really smart and passionate, so it makes sense she’s studying her ass off. But truth be told, you just don’t care much about the classes. You’ll probably steal Jesse’s notes and read them once or twice, but that’s as much work as you’re planning to put into it.  
  
“Good. Then you won’t miss me tonight.”  
  
“I always miss you, Becs.” Chloe flirts before dropping to the floor and getting back to where you think she left off before you entered. “Do you have plans with Jesse?”  
  
“No, I’m actually going Christmas shopping with Stacie.” You speak as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, but Chloe probably fractures her neck the way she spins it fast to look at you.  
  
“You’re going Christmas shopping with Stacie? On a Wednesday evening? Two weeks before the actual holiday?”  
  
You feel like you’re being mocked by your girlfriend, but you don’t quite understand what for.  
  
“I assumed you were the kind of person who had to run to the store an hour before they closed on December 24 th.”  
  
You explain how this plan wasn’t your idea to begin with, and Chloe had told you about the tradition of spending Christmas with the Bellas, so not only do you have to worry about getting Chloe a gift, you have seven other girls to stress about as well.  
  
When you think about it, the girls are fairly easy. You can probably find something both offensive and hilarious for each and every one of them. Chloe, however, you worry about. You want something that shows her you care, but you also don’t want something too sentimental or romantic.  
  
You realized you could use some help with that and that’s the only reason you agreed to Stacie’s offer.  
  
Although that’s a lie. You’re starting to like Stacie. She’s so funny and relaxed. She doesn’t have a filter, she just says it like it is. A guy in the bar she took you to on that Sunday afternoon was apparently staring at her and she called him out on it in front of everyone in the bar.  
  
She’s crazy and you love it.  
  
That evening, you once again have a great time with the tall girl. Stacie’s mocking everyone in the mall, but not in a rude way. Somehow she does it in this super nice way, but it cracks you up every time.  
  
“Oh my God, look at the kickers on that one. I hate them, but it’s bold, so watch this.” She told you right before making her way over to the woman in question and tapping her on the shoulder. “Excuse me, ma’am, where did you buy those beautiful green, leather heels? I’ve been looking for a pair of those everywhere to finish my Shrek costume.”  
  
The people she approached didn’t get the joke, but you were –sometimes for real- rolling over the floor laughing. The sarcasm in her voice matched with her sincere interest were too much for you to handle.  
  
After a few hours of goofing around, you have only bought three gifts yet. You spotted a UFO detector and it screamed Lilly, so you had to buy that. You know she’s weird like that. And you found hoodies with the names Ashley and Jessica on it, since the two of them get mixed up a lot, you thought it would be funny.  
  
“Oh, Victoria’s Secret!” Stacie yells out as she drags you along to the store. She stops you right in front of the entrance, to the annoyance of customers trying to enter and exit. “Beca Mitchell, do you dare to enter this shop with me?”  
  
“Honestly, no.” You reply, but you follow the woman inside anyway, scared of how much she’ll scar you this time.  
  
“Do you think this would look good on Aubrey?”  
  
_There you go.  
_  
“Oh come on, eyeline-monster. You’re not shy about lingerie, are you?”  
  
“I’m just wondering if I can ever look Coach in the eye again after this.”  
  
Stacie wanders through the shop, lifting bra’s to her chest completely unreserved as she checks if they look good on her, cupping the item and her boobs in the process. You just follow her around, lifting an item here and there, but mostly keeping your hands to yourself, feeling a little out of place in this fancy store.  
  
“What about this for Chlo?”  
  
Stacie throws a matching set of underwear in your hands, and it’s nice, it is. But you don’t think you’re ready to go lingerie shopping for the girl you’ve been dating for a week and a half now. You quickly put the item back to where Stacie got it from and continue to follow her tracks.  
  
“You two are good, right? Sexually? Are the two vaginas getting along?”  
  
A woman of age standing dangerously close to you and Stacie looks up petrified and quickly leaves your sight. “Oh, that is.. Super personal.” You say fast and uncomfortable with the topic, slightly startled from the sudden interest. “No, we’re good, dude. We’re really good.”  
  
Stacie looks at you as if she won’t believe it until you give her at least some details.  
  
“We.. have a lot of it. Sex. Great, great sex. Lots of sex.”  
  
“Wow, easy there, Mitchell. You don’t have to paint me the scene.” Stacie scoffs as she proceeds her path towards the back.  
  
“No, I’m just saying. No problems in that area.” You hate that you somehow stay on the topic.  
  
“Are there problems in other areas?” Stacie asks as she gets in line to pay for a sexy Santa Claus outfit, which you don’t even dare to ask about or look at.  
  
“No, surprisingly we’re doing pretty good right now. We had, like, issues in the past, but I think we’re in a good place now.”  
  
“Be careful, Mitchell. You’ve only been dating for a week. You don’t want me to think you were hooking up before that time, do you?” Stacie speaks with a dirty smirk and a wink that invades every inch of your privacy.  
  
“No comment.” You say as you try to suppress a smile, but failing to.

* * *

  
  
Stacie decides to store all the gifts in her room, since Chloe’s a snooper and you don’t trust the woman around presents. Stacie claims her roommate is barely around and Aubrey refuses to meet in her room, which you think has to do with her control issues, but you don’t dare to ask the girl about that.  
  
Either way, the gifts you bought are safe at Stacie’s place and you can head home with a content feeling. Although that doesn’t go for Chloe, who’s visibly upset at the bags your hands aren’t carrying when you return.  
  
“You didn’t find _anything_?!”  
  
“I did.” You answer cool and nonchalant as you start to get undressed and change for bed.  
  
“Where is it? Did you get me something?” Chloe asks as she bouncingly follows you into the closet.  
  
“Maybe.” You state as you unbutton your jeans and slide them down to your ankles where you can kick them off.  
  
“You did!” Chloe yelps out enthusiastic. “What is it? Can I have a hint?”  
  
You lift yourself into your pajama bottoms before pretending to cave. “Fine. Close your eyes.” You order and Chloe obeys right away, her hands clapping excitedly as she waits for you. You change your shirt while keeping up appearances that you’re needing that time to get her the present. When enough time has passed, you step into Chloe’s personal space and take her hands in yours, intertwining your fingers before moving to stand on your toes to peck her lips.  
  
“I’m not getting my gift, am I?” Chloe smiles softly against your lips.  
  
“You’ll have to wait for Christmas, Beale.”

* * *

 

* * *

 

You’re glad that you and Beca are on better terms after having talked some things out and you can go out for your one-week anniversary with a clean slate. Beca tries to keep her cool and indifferent attitude, but you know that she’s having fun in the karaoke bar. She even joins you on the stage once and you catch her laughing at you from across the room more than a dozen times.  
  
After having such a great evening, you’d forgotten what the night would bring you, but upon entering your dorm room, you instantly feel sick over the state of the room. Your bed, back at its previous place, seems miles away from Beca’s.  
  
You try to ignore the dirty way your stomach rotates at a suddenly fast speed, but it inevitably succeeds in its mission and you’re left with the sickening and off feeling.  
  
Looking back, you know it was a mistake to turn the two single and separate beds together, but you’ve also never slept and awoke better than after every day of the week with Beca beside you. It was satisfying and relaxing to know the girl you’re dating would be within your reach at night.  
  
But it was too fast, and you can see that now. Beca wasn’t ready for something like that and you should’ve realized that before you acted. You’re just glad she’s forgiven you and you can wait for her until she will be ready.  
  
But this first night alone in your own bed again will be rough.  
  
You crawl under your sheets and lie on your side so you can at least face your girlfriend. It seems Beca on the other side of the room can feel your eyes on her, so she mirrors your position and stares back at you with a smile tugging her lips.  
  
“What are you thinking?” You ask when you can’t seem to read her.  
  
Beca sighs heavily, her head shaking in that quick way that you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention, the way she always does when she’s cursing herself over something right before she gives you more intel about the subject. Never with an actual explanation. But with enough words and body language for you to figure it out.  
  
“I’m thinking that this is stupid.” Beca mutters as she gets out of bed and walks over to you. In the blink of an eye, she’s dropped to her knees and tries to get the bed moving. “Damnit, woman. How did you do this?!” Beca complains as she jolts the bed roughly towards her, little by little.  
  
“Beca, what are you doing?” The question is serious, but a laugh escapes you from the sight of your girlfriend’s struggle.  
  
“I’m trying to get your fat ass over to my side of the room, but you’re not exactly helping here, Beale.”  
  
You get off the bed to show your assistance, but instead of helping your friend pull the bedframe back against hers, you take her hands in yours and try to make eye contact. “Are you sure?” You ask while studying her face, aware by now that you can trust her eyes more than her sarcastic words.  
  
“Yeah, this is dumb.”  
  
“It’s not dumb.” You reason. You don’t ever want your girlfriend to think that what she feels is insignificant or unimportant. “It’s perfectly fine if you’re not okay with this.”  
  
“I am. I mean, I guess I got kind of used to it.”  
  
You feel your lips curling into a happy but arrogant, surprised smile. “You got used to sleeping with me?”  
  
The girl rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Yeah, I don’t know how I managed before when there was no one snoring into my ear or stealing my covers.” Beca says with sarcasm dripping off of her voice as she bumps you out of the way and closes the last of the gap between the two beds.  
  
“You could just admit it, Becs.” You say as you get back into the bed that’s now no longer just yours, but Beca’s as well.  
  
“Never.” Beca mumbles from where she’s hidden underneath the sheets, curled into a ball and faced away from you like she always does.  
  
You happily close your eyes, more than satisfied with just the knowledge that she’s next to you and that she has found more comfort within your relationship.  
  
Just before you drift off, you hear Beca move, not her entire body, but a rustling sound beneath the sheets and over the mattress. Before you can identify the sound, you feel her hand finding yours, her fingers slipping softly and gentle between yours and rest over your knuckles. You hear a content hum coming from where your friend is sleeping and it spurs something inside of you.  
  
You’re too tired and happy to figure out what it was exactly.

* * *

  
  
You have always loved Christmas. Not just the 25th of December, but the entire Christmas spirit, the entire month, the winter holiday. You love it all. Perhaps Christmas is your all-time favorite time of the year.  
  
This year is no different. You’re always excited for Christmas, but this time in addition to your usual happiness, you have Beca with you in every sense of the word.  
  
If you had to define your relationship with Beca in one word, you’d use perfection. Not because there haven’t been arguments or disagreements. You have those every day. Most of them are about how you got paint stains on her jeans, –which was her own fault, because she should know better than to crawl on your lap and start making out with you while you have paint on your hands- or how you didn’t clean up the room –again, not your fault, because you were still working and you needed everything that was spread out on the floor- and how you didn’t use the special mug for your dirty paint water and she’d get a mouthful of it. -…Okay, that one might be on you.-  
  
But it’s still perfection.  
  
Apart from those small fights that always led to makeup sex, and the usual tension between Beca and Aubrey, there haven’t been any bumps in the road.  
  
Beca has been doing great and she even seems happier, which could be caused by multiple things.  
  
She earned herself the New Year’s Eve gig at Kevin’s club, which is so great and exciting. You’re so proud of her and you can’t wait to see her in action.  
  
Beca has also been hanging out with Stacie more. The two started to become good friends and your girlfriend has also been more open to connect with the rest of the Bellas. She has even personally invited Aubrey to her New Year’s Eve show at the club.  
  
Your girlfriend went to take all of her midterms, which isn’t to say she studied much for it, but that’s in itself a whole step, so you’ll accept it.  
  
And last but not least, she’s been having weekly lunches with her father. All no longer than an hour or two, but it’s a big deal to you and you’re glad she’s reconnecting with her dad, because that family bond is important.  
  
So you can’t really claim to be the reason for the smile on her face, but you hope you contribute to her happiness.  
  
Your happiness is definitely caused by Beca. She makes you feel better about yourself, even with her sarcastic words and downplayed compliments, the way she hides her affection. And you believe because of Beca in your life, everything else has been going better as well.  
  
You think you’re falling in love with her.  
  
Which is a strange thing to think, because it’s not that much of a revelation as it is a realization you’ve been feeling this way for a long time now.  
  
And it’s also strange to just _think_ it. You usually express how you feel the moment you feel it. You like to put it to words, to admit it, to make sure the other person knows. Just like with any other person, you have no desire to get those words said back to you by Beca. But due to your little, spontaneous confession in Kansas, and the way your friend reacted, you’ve decided you don’t want to ruin what you have with Beca right now.  
  
The fear that she might leave you is still very much present. Not on a daily base, but definitely when you’re realize things and feelings of this kind.  
  
And it’s okay to not tell her how you feel.  
  
You know that Beca has no need to hear those words. And just because you don’t express yourself, doesn’t mean the feelings don’t exist or that they fade away. If anything, they grow.  
  
But you’re okay with keeping things the great way they are right now. And perhaps Beca will someday know how you feel about her.  
  
Today, however, is Christmas morning and you’re heading towards the gym where every Bellas practice is held. Upon entering, you see the girls are already gathered in a circle on the floor with a huge pile of wrapped gifts in the center. As you make your way over, you spot your girlfriend talking to Stacie while she rises to her feet. Her mouth keeps moving, words and laughter falling out, but her feet indicate she’s leaving the conversation.  
  
“Yeah, that’s what I said!” Beca half-yells just before she turns away from the girl she was talking to and meets your eye and her hands connect to your hips gently. “Hey, you.” She says with a smile plastered to her face from her previous conversation.  
  
You kiss her lips for the simple reason that you want to. “Christmas even removes the Grinch out of you.”  
  
“Oh no, I’m definitely still going to be a Grinch this entire day.” Beca responds playfully before taking the bag out of your hands and emptying it with the rest of the gifts. “That big one better be for me.”  
  
It became a tradition years ago that the entire winter holiday was going to be spent with all of the Bellas. Since most of the girls went home for Thanksgiving, Christmas seemed to work for everyone. Just like the years before, a schedule was planned by the captains, for the first time that’s you and Aubrey.  
  
Aubrey wanted to plan everything herself, but you convinced her to listen to the ideas of the group and you put a list of activities together after that. This year, instead of starting the day after Christmas, you’ve decided to start Saturday and end with the New Year’s Eve party.  
  
Because Beca isn’t allowed to work the weekend before her gig, -something about how people don’t want to see the same DJ they’re paying big money for on New Year’s Eve to play the regular Saturday- you’ve decided to start off the week there. Beca’s club is great and even though you’re excited to see her play, you don’t want the girls’ first night in that club to be experienced with your girlfriend working and not with all of you on the dancefloor.  
  
The rest of the schedule includes glow-in-the-dark bowling, a tradition that Aubrey wants to uphold, go-carting at Cynthia-Rose’s request, visiting a gentleman’s club was of course Stacie’s pick and paintball unsurprisingly your own girlfriend’s request. Unfortunately, you couldn’t put everyone’s wish on the list, so Jessica and Ashley’s vote for the trampoline park was dismissed, Lilly’s request to swim with whales couldn’t be met with the financial resources, Amy suggested sumo wrestling in Japan or if that wasn’t possible, China Town, which she believes to be the same thing, but that also wasn’t currently in the cards for the team. And you didn’t put a vote in yourself, because you were fine with whatever the girls wanted to do.  
  
“Hey everybody!” Stacie starts.  
  
“Listen up, pitches!” Cynthia-Rose yells to get everyone’s attention towards Stacie.  
  
“I know we all got each other gifts, but eyeline-monster and I had a different plan. What if we go around and everyone can blindly grab a gift from the pile.”  
  
“Wait, hold on, I never agreed to this!” Beca yells out.  
  
You think you see a mental conversation happening between your girlfriend and Stacie. Beca just looks threatening and Stacie looks extremely smug and prepared.  
  
“I don’t know, Stace.” Aubrey expresses her doubts with the plan.  
  
“See! Coach isn’t okay with it!” Beca protests.  
  
“It’ll be fine, we can trade things afterwards. It will be fun.”  
  
This is the first time you’re actually physically present and get to witness how Stacie calms your best friend down. Aubrey has always had trouble with spontaneity or anything that catches her off guard. Aubrey has told you about how Stacie’s able to relax her, but you’re glad you can see it with your own eyes for once.  
  
“Okay! I guess I can let this little thing slide for once.” Aubrey says excitedly, but you can see the panic and fear in her eyes, discomfort brought on by the situation she’s been put into.  
  
“Alright, how about you go first and we continue clockwise.” Stacie decides and Aubrey immediately crawls towards the pile of gifts and starts to examine them.  
  
“That’s not fair.” Beca mutters with her jaw locked and her eyes on Stacie. “That means you’re second.”  
  
Stacie shrugs confidently and you can see that something’s bothering your girlfriend.  
  
“What’s going on?” You whisper in the girl’s ear.  
  
“She’s gonna steal my gift.” Beca speaks defeated and angry at the same time.  
  
You want to ask more, but Aubrey’s just opened her gift and the girls all cheer as she holds a vinyl record of the Dixie Chicks up in the air. You clap along with the group even though you know for sure your best friend cheated and took something with her name on it.  
  
“It’s got all the hits on it.” Cynthia-Rose confesses. “I got it from the place where you work, Beca.” The girl speaks almost shy as the girls compliment her.  
  
“Thank you, Cynthia-Rose. I love it.” Your best friend speaks and the two of them share a look.  
  
You know for sure that Christmas is going to bring all of you closer together.  
  
“My turn!” Stacie says as she jumps up and walks around the pile, acting like she’s reaching out a few times, but then deciding otherwise, making your girlfriend next to you growl every time she does. “This one.” Stacie decides on as she takes one of the smallest presents in the center. “Oh, it says Chloe.”  
  
You’re excited to see what it is, but Beca doesn’t even watch Stacie open the wrapping. She just stays seated with her head in her hands and mumbled curse words escaping her mouth, but never looking up to watch the situation.  
  
“Two tickets for an art exhibition in New York including flight and hotel!”  
  
You can’t even process the entire thing, because as soon as the words have left Stacie’s mouth, Beca jumps her and tries to snatch the envelop out of her hands, all the while Stacie just laughs loudly and her long arms have no trouble staying out of reach for Beca.  
  
“I fucking hate you.” Beca mutters as she returns to her place in defeat.  
  
“You got us tickets to go to New York?” You ask when the realization finally hits, a feather flutters through your chest and it warms everything it touches.  
  
“She cheated.” Beca addresses the group. “She knew what was in there!”  
  
But the girls aren’t impressed and just force her to pick one and move along.  
  
You’re still in shock about the amazing gift Beca got you, even after your talk about how she doesn’t need to try so hard. You’d have been happy with a pair of socks if it meant Beca got it for you or it made her think of you. Instead, she spent hundreds of dollars on tickets for you to look at some art.  
  
You feel like crying.  
  
Inside, you’re already sobbing, but you fight to prevent the tears from slipping out.  
  
“Two can play that game.” Beca speaks suddenly arrogant as she makes her way over to the center.  
  
“Don’t you dare, Mitchell.” Stacie threatens, but all the girls seem to enjoy the little battle that’s going on and to be honest, you’re excited to see what Beca has in store as well.  
  
You watch Beca search until she finds what she’s been looking for, grabbing the item in her hands before she starts to doubt it. You can tell she’s hesitant by the way her lip twitches.  
  
“No, that’s just gonna look bad on me.” Beca says, making Stacie scoff and laugh. “No, I’m taking one of yours. Let’s see. This one.”  
  
Everyone can tell that it’s wrapped by Aubrey, and if this is one from your best friend to her girlfriend, Stacie is going to regret ever taking that envelop with your name on it.  
  
“Stacie, stop her!” Aubrey cries out.  
  
“Mitchell, let’s think about this first.” Stacie argues, but Beca’s already smirking and ripping it open.  
  
“What do we have here?” Beca says as she peeks inside and reaches for what she sees, dramatically pulling out the item. It seems to be some sort of bracelet, nothing of gold or silver, but black beads and weird-looking pearls. It doesn’t look like anything Stacie would wear.  
  
The rest of the girls are as confused as you are and Beca realizes her plan to expose hasn’t completely worked.  
  
“Okay, that’s not what I was expecting.” Beca mumbles before tossing it over to Stacie.  
  
Stacie examines the item and you can tell she knows exactly what it is. “A Solar System bracelet.” She says excitedly as she puts it on her own wrist.  
  
“Every black bead represents 50 million miles to the sun. The pearls are the planets.” Aubrey explains softly, but the room is dead quiet, so everyone’s hearing the intimate moment the two girls share.  
  
“And you got this for me, because I’m your sun!” Stacie decides as she jumps forward and kisses Aubrey’s cheek.  
  
“No, Stace. The sun is right here!” Aubrey speaks borderline upset as she takes the bracelet between thumb and index finger and shows it to her.  
  
“You guys are adorable!”  
  
“Yeah, I didn’t know Stacie was a sex addict during the day and a science nerd at night. Maybe you should try to be ashamed of the sex addiction and not the science thing. I’m just saying.”  
  
“Okay, well if you’re happy with that weird thing, I’m gonna want it back.” Beca says annoyed that her plan didn’t work.  
  
“We can’t all afford plane tickets to New York, Beca.”  
  
You can’t help but laugh at your best friends words, but you hug Beca to your chest anyway, appreciative she tried. “Don’t worry, babe. I got this.” You whisper in your girlfriend’s ear before rising to your feet and picking a present.  
  
Unfortunately, it’s one meant for Amy and bought by Jessica. It’s an Australian flag beach towel and Stacie starts to laugh and makes it clear she has no interest in it.  
  
“Damn it.” Beca mumbles sad.  
  
“It’s okay, Becs. I appreciate the offer, really.”  
  
“This isn’t about the offer. This is about us going to New York and you seeing the exhibition. If I wanted credit for an offer, I’d have written you a poem or something.” Beca complains annoyed.  
  
“I’d love to hear that.” You say jokingly as you run your hand over Beca’s thigh and try to get her to cheer up. She smiles weakly at your attempt, which means you didn’t succeed. Instead of letting her dwell in her sadness, you take her face in your hands and kiss her until you feel her smiling against your lips.  
  
Jessica pulls one out of the pile meant for Lilly which turns out to be a ketchup-bomb and explodes as soon as the blonde girl has opened the gift. Lilly mumbles something about how it reminds her of her own birth, which you don’t quite get, but the girl smiles and you think she likes her present.  
  
Amy surprisingly gets the one you got for her. Cynthia-Rose gets one that was meant for Beca. Ashley gets one that was meant for Jessica. Lilly unwraps one with your name on it.  
  
“We need something they want.” Beca whispers secretive as you watch Aubrey unwrap her second present. “Did you get Stacie something good? I got her sex toys. Well, she picked them out and I just paid for it. It’ll just be weird if I grab that for myself.” Beca literally shudders to make her point.  
  
“You can get the one I got for her and then I will take those toys.” You say flirtatious and with a wink.  
  
But Beca looks at you with lust in her eyes and a smirk on her face and it makes you instantly weak. The words may have been just to tease her and get her to smile again, but Beca seems to be into it and you can feel your body burning with great desire.  
  
“Oh look, headphones made of chocolate. I think I got one of Beca’s again.” Stacie says with a grin.  
  
Your girlfriend curses under her breath before sliding over to the center and grabbing the one you told her to take. Inside are tickets for a convention you know Stacie would want to see.  
  
“The Kamasutra convention?” Stacie asks with actual tears in her eyes. Beca simply nods and they share a beat of silence before Stacie’s arms fly towards Aubrey, but she’s holding Beca’s envelop firmly in her one hand while the other one prevents Stacie from moving.  
  
“We are _not_ giving away tickets to New York for some weird, sex convention!”  
  
“They show the latest hits in positions!” Stacie argues, but Aubrey doesn’t seem like she’ll give up those plane tickets, so Stacie turns back to Beca and you. “I will do whoever it takes to get those tickets.”  
  
“You mean ‘ _whatever_ it takes’.” Amy corrects.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll do that, too.”  
  
“You know what I want, Conrad. Let me know when you’ve made up your mind.” Beca says before raising her hand and waiting for you to high-five it.

* * *

  
  
The game goes on for quite some time, but you’re all seeming to have a blast. When the final package has been unwrapped, everyone happily scatters their belongings together and starts to look for good trades. Beca stays seated next to you, calm and awaiting while you go through all the gifts you got, like a little kid.  
  
“Well played, Mitchell.” Stacie and Aubrey take a seat in front of the two of you and Stacie addresses your girlfriend in a semi-serious voice.  
  
“I didn’t want to play at all, but you forced my hand.” You hear Beca reply in that same, ridiculous gangster voice.  
  
“Oh my God, you two are insane.” You say while cracking up and Aubrey joins you in your laughter.  
  
The looks on your significant others’ faces isn’t helping and you end up rolling over the floor from stomach pains with your best friend.  
  
“You have any plans late January? I need someone to join me on a trip to New York.” Beca asks Stacie. “I got this pretty girl a ticket, but we’re not together anymore.”  
  
“I feel you. I’m in the same situation, actually. I’ll go with you to New York and you can come with me to the Kamasutra convention.”  
  
“Dude.. I know we’re doing a roleplay thing, but I’m not agreeing to go to a sex convention with you.”  
  
The whole conversation only hurts your stomach more and eventually both you and your best friend have to calm each other down, because there’s no air coming into your lungs anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continuous support, guys!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Seek the ones who never stop caring, who break down your walls, and help you come back to yourself." -Yasmin Mogahed
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forget to mention to y'all that I accidentally wrote two chapters this week and I am going to post them both instead of keeping this one in my folders for two weeks? 
> 
> Oh I did? 
> 
> Whoops! ;D

“I still can’t believe you got me this, Becs! We’re going to New York, I’m so excited!”  
  
“I can’t believe you didn’t trade that hoodie with Jessica’s name on it for that Future Music subscription you got for me.”  
  
_You like Future Music.  
_  
The morning and part of the afternoon was spent with the girls unpacking Christmas gifts and having a cheap lunch, which meant Cynthia-Rose and Lilly went to get sandwiches and you ate it together in the smelly gym that wasn’t being used during winter break.  
  
Christmas is perhaps the only holiday you like.  
  
Even when you and your dad weren’t on great terms, you still spent it together, sharing traditional presents and having dinner together.  
  
This year, he understood you couldn’t be with him, but you could see it saddened him. Which in return saddened you.  
  
The two of you have been having lunch together every Wednesday and it’s not as terrible as it once was. You’re actually kind of looking forward to it. You think things are getting better between you two, even though there are triggers and he can still be assertively trying to get you to do what he wants you to do.  
  
He’s not okay with your job at Kevin’s club, and you doubt he’ll ever be, but he’s proud you haven’t been kicked off this college yet and it is true that you’ve been working harder than any previous school.  
  
Whatever happens with him, he’s your father and you owe it to the both of you, and your mom, to keep trying.  
  
And your dad will always be your dad, but you’ve found a new family with these girls. You’ve never been the kind of person who had a lot of friends who were girls. You always assumed guys were easier to deal with and the girls in your high school never seemed like they would be interested in hanging out with you.  
  
In your own defense, they didn’t seem that interesting themselves.  
  
But these girls have accepted you since day one. Even when you were a giant pain in the ass and an arrogant asshole, none of them have every turned their backs on you. Not even Aubrey, even though the possibility of her kicking you out is still very much present, it has reduced.  
  
“Who’re you texting?” Chloe asks as she crawls onto your body and starts to kiss your neck.  
  
“My dad. He’s actually asking if he can come over, so we can’t do this now.”  
  
“I’m sure we can.” Chloe’s hot breath tickles your neck as she pushes her nose against your jaw and you easily give her the access she demands. “I haven’t properly thanked you yet.”  
  
Chloe’s hands slip underneath your shirt and waste no time to pinch and scratch sensitive skin. Her lips never come up to kiss yours, instead they suck on your pulse point and her teeth bite hard at your collarbones.  
  
You’re already turned on, but when she moves one hand from your chest over your stomach and unbuttons your jeans, you feel like you have to try with the last of your rationality.  
  
“I’m serious, Beale. He’ll be here in like, five.”  
  
Chloe just hums as she positions herself between your legs and yanks the pants from your body with a predatory look on her face. “Don’t pretend you need more than two, babe.”  
  
The nickname mixed with Chloe’s fingers guiding your underwear to your ankles and eventually to the other side of the room cause your body to cease their resistance and surrender to the girl who throws your legs over her shoulders and bites her teeth into the inside of your thigh.  
  
It proves that Chloe was in fact right. After throwing your hands up and submitting to your girlfriend, the five minute timeline you had set for your father to cross campus was excessive and unnecessary. You end up making out with the girl whose tongue tastes like you for the remaining few minutes until a knock on your door forces you to put space between you and your girlfriend.  
  
“Hey dad, come in.” You say after taking a beat to check yourself before opening the door.  
  
“Hi sweetheart, thanks for letting me come over. I know you have a day with your friends.” Your dad says as he awkwardly steps into the room and stays put in front of the closed door.  
  
You only now realize this is the first time he’s been invited into your room.  
  
“That’s alright, we just have dinner plans later tonight.” You grab a chair for your old man and put it down next to him, with a hand gesture making it obvious he can take a seat.  
  
“Thanks, honey. Hi Chloe, how’ve you been? Beca told me the two of you have become partners.” Your father speaks formal.  
  
You didn’t exactly _tell_ him. Your dad had forced you to talk about how Chloe was doing and you had no choice but to inform him about the changes in your personal life, which felt like a step too soon to you, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.  
  
“We’re not working in a lab together, dad. Chloe’s my girlfriend.” You say annoyed at his choice of words as you sit down next to the girl on the bed.  
  
“I’m sorry, Beca. I didn’t know the appropriate means for this situation.”  
  
Chloe’s hand tugs at that painful spot just above your knee, but you don’t let that stop you. “If she was a guy, you wouldn’t have said partners. It’s the same situation.”  
  
“Okay!” Chloe yelps as she slaps your leg in the process. You throw her a look, but she throws a smug one right back. “At least you two are communicating _more_. Now there’s room for improvement.” She giggles. “Mister Mitchell, can I get you anything?”  
  
“I’d love some coffee, if you have any.”  
  
“Coffee.” Chloe states as her eyes land on you. “You hear that, babe? You should take after your father.”  
  
You roll your eyes out of annoyance, but the girl comes back with a cup for your father and a can of energy drink for you, which you gratefully take and desperately need.  
  
“So, I know you’re spending Christmas with your friends this year, but I was hoping you and Chloe could join us for dinner tomorrow. Sheila’s cooking. We’d love to have you over.”  
  
“That’s so nice of you, Mister Mitchell.”  
  
“Wait, you mean at your house?”  
  
It’s a dumb question which you already know the answer to, but your father’s nod confirms it. You haven’t been to that house in months. You don’t like that place very much. It feels hollow and empty, filled with fake happiness that doesn’t stick, instead it slips through the cracks of the house.  
  
“I don’t know, dad.” You say honestly. You know it would just be for a few hours and you’d have Chloe there for support, but you don’t know if you’ll be able to set foot in that house again.  
  
Too much has happened there.  
  
“It’s your home, too, Beca.” Your dad reasons.  
  
Except it’s not. That place has never been your home. Your home was the house he sold ten months after your mother’s death, saying it was too much for him to stay there. But he never considered how it made you feel to move into a house where your mother has never laughed, breathed, lived in.  
  
Because of him and that stupid, new house, the first thing you forgot about your mother was her scent.  
  
There was no place in your father’s new place where you could crawl into a closet that still smelled like her. Her smell wasn’t in the house and in the walls like it should’ve been. Your father traded all of that in for a clean and fresh start.  
  
You couldn’t even make yourself feel like you belonged in that new start. You were stuck in that old house and perhaps parts of you died right there with your mother.  
  
“Beca?”  
  
Chloe’s whisper brings you back from your trip down memory lane and you can’t help but smile at your girlfriend’s worried look.  
  
“I’m free, if you want to go.” She pitches, leaving the ball in your corner, but feeling her support for either decision.  
  
Your eyes find your father. His face is one you’d barely recognize in a crowd. Maybe that’s a lie, but it feels like you don’t know him anymore. You don’t know what caused those wrinkles on his forehead, the circles under his eyes you don’t think ever leave, you don’t know if he ever regrets anything, if he still has a drink too many once in a while. And if he does, what would go through his mind? You don’t know.  
  
There was a time you knew him. He was your dad after all. He still is.  
  
“Yeah.” You say after a deep breath and deciding you’re no longer that angry teen who can blame her father and the world for everything. It’s time to work for it. “Sure, dad. What time?”

* * *

  
  
“How did you even find out about the exhibition?” Chloe asks as you’re making your way over to Aubrey’s dorm. You’ve never actually been there before, but you can easily picture what the room of a control freak would look like.  
  
“I didn’t. I ran into your teacher - what’s his name- Paul?”  
  
You didn’t run into him as much as you spent thirty minutes looking for him and then waiting an hour and a half for his class to end. You got the idea of turning to the man for help the day after you went shopping with Stacie. You knew you weren’t going to find something special for the girl in a store, but you weren’t sure where it would come from.  
  
“He told me about this exhibition in New York next month. I didn’t get you anything yet, so.”  
  
You specifically asked him about any _cool_ art related events in the area, but everything he suggested sounded lame to you. Eventually, the man offered this exhibition that’s supposed to be a big deal, but it was in New York. The professor spoke apologetically, but a weekend New York isn’t an issue for you.  
  
You’ve never been to New York before, but you’d love to go with Chloe. You don’t know if she’s ever been, but either way, it’ll be great. You don’t even care you have to spend one evening there glaring at paintings and artwork, because you’ll be doing so in _New York_ and perhaps you’re more excited about this than you let on.  
  
Although it wouldn’t compare to your girlfriend’s excitement, because she’s been bouncing and jumping more than walking towards her best friend’s place.  
  
Aubrey’s room is indeed what you had imagined it to be.  
  
Even though the woman and her girlfriend seem to be preparing dinner in the small kitchen, the room is perfect and there’s not one thing out of the ordinary to be found. Not a spot on the floor. Not a stray clothing item thrown around. Nothing.  
  
You can’t say you’re surprised, but you would have loved to find out she was actually a hoarder or something.  
  
You decide you’d rather sit on a stranger’s bed than on your Coach’, and Chloe, who seems to have been glued to your side, follows you while chatting with her best friend. You actually like the feeling of her hand caressing the inside of your arm, stroking your biceps and making you feel stronger than you are.  
  
One by one, the rest of the girls arrive and dinner is served quickly, thank God. You wish the food was terrible or you found a hair in at least one dish, but it seems your perfect Coach stays in character. The food is delicious and you kind of wish you could hire her as a chef, because Chloe and you aren’t the best food-makers.  
  
Jessica suggests a documentary after the meal and clean-up, which doesn’t spark your interest at first. But –unlike Jesse’s romantic films and dramas- the story about a wrongfully convicted man is able to hold your attention.  
  
You think you could get into documentaries.  
  
The rest of the evening and part of the night is spent like that. Watching documentaries and drinking wine with these crazy ladies. Your girlfriend has one too many quite early on in the evening and it’s hilarious to watch how she goes from hot stripper to the music of the documentary to literally sobbing when she spots an animal on screen.  
  
Her hands also tend to stray a lot towards you and certain areas on your body whenever she’s drunk, so you’re completely okay with her inability to handle alcohol.  
  
Around three a.m. Amy starts to drunkenly remove her clothes and that’s your cue to go.  
  
“Come on, drunk. Time to go.” You state as you throw your girlfriend her winter coat.  
  
“No, it’s still early and I wanna watch Amy take her clothes off!” Chloe yells as she wraps her coat around herself backwards, her arms slipping through the sleeves but the zipper ending up on her back.  
  
“I know you do, Red. You’re, like, the biggest les I know.”  
  
“I’m pretty sure Amy will at some point in the near future take her clothes off again. Probably tomorrow.” You reason as your girlfriend pouts, but she follows your lead and rises to her feet.  
  
You zip her coat up like it’s a dress, knowing it’s a short walk across campus and you don’t have the energy to fight her costume choices.  
  
“I wanna sleep like this!” Chloe runs towards the bed upon entering and crawls under the sheets fully clothed.  
  
“You’re gonna regret that.” You laugh.  
  
Before you’ve even made it into your nightwear, you catch her fighting herself to get out of the winter coat. Knowing she will never succeed, you take your time to wipe the makeup off of your face before you go and help the girl that’s kicking and arching herself in crazy positions on the bed.  


* * *

  
  
Friday comes fast and you’re driving yourself and your girlfriend to your father’s house before you know it. Chloe’s been quite relaxed about the situation. She hasn’t forced you to talk about why you’re nervous to go there or why you’ve been so on edge all day. She’s just singing along to the radio while holding your hand in hers.  
  
You hope her calm state of mind will affect yours before you arrive at your destination.  
  
You barely remember the streets as you roll through it. Which is strange, because you did pass through them every day for most of your time in high school. These roads and houses hold no memories for you. Not many good ones, at least.  
  
You park the car on the side of the road and take a deep breath before planning to get out, but Chloe’s hand prevents you from moving.  
  
“We’ll do this together, okay?” She says sweetly.  
  
Somehow, those words and the realization that you’re not alone lifts some weights off of your shoulders.  
  
You lead the way towards the porch and knock on the door to quickly get this night over with.  
  
“Hey ladies!”  
  
“Hi, come on in!”  
  
The two stand in the door entrance like a fake couple in a model house. Their smiles too bright and disgusting to be believable. Somehow going into that house to escape their happiness doesn’t seem like the most awful plan.  
  
“Mister Mitchell-“  
  
“Please, Chloe. Call me Ben.”  
  
“Ben, Sheila, thanks for having us. Beca and I got you a little something.” Chloe says as she follows you inside and hands over the bottle of wine and the flowers she bought. There wasn’t much involvement from your side in those decisions.  
  
Your eyes get drawn to the inside of the house. Nothing much has changed since the last time you have been inside. It’s been months since you saw the interior of this house, but everything is still mostly in brown, like that ugly suit your dad likes to wear in the same disgusting color.  
  
“Beca, would you like something to drink?”  
  
You spin your head to match the woman’s voice to a face. “No, thanks.” You answer Sheila’s offer. Your stomach has been turning all day and you doubt you could keep anything down.  
  
“You girls go have a seat.” Your father guides you towards the couch. “Dinner’s almost ready.” He says happily as he follows his wife into the kitchen and seems to actually help with cooking.  
  
You don’t think you’ve ever seen your dad cook a real meal in your entire life time.  
  
Chloe gets up from the couch to snoop like the invasive person she is. You, on the other hand, try to look at as few items in the room as possible. The less you see, the less can piss you off.  
  
“Oh my God!” Chloe says with a picture frame in her hands and tears stinging her eyes. You get up instantly to stand next to her.  
  
“She’s beautiful, Beca.” Chloe whispers.  
  
Inside the frame is a picture of you and your mother. You were maybe eight years old and you remember the park where the picture was taken, but you don’t remember that exact day.  
  
You didn’t know your father had pictures of you or your mom in his new house. You definitely never saw them when you lived here, which means he put them up after you left.  
  
“Was she a natural blonde? She looks great!”  
  
You can’t help but laugh, knowing the only one who would make a comment like that is Chloe Beale.  
  
“So you’ve just been cute all your life, Becs?”  
  
You know what she’s doing. Thank God it’s working, because you definitely don’t want to shed a tear in this house over your mother, but you haven’t seen this picture in so long that it sure made you feel something.  
  
You take Chloe’s hand in yours and tug it softly, hoping she’ll get the message.

* * *

  
  
Dinner is served shortly after and the conversation stay within the limits of small talk, but the food is pretty good and they even have desserts, which you think is cheating, because your father knows how much you love ice cream.  
  
Chloe takes a coffee after dinner, which means you can’t leave straight after. You take a seat next to her on the couch and your father and his wife occupy the other loveseat.  
  
“So how long have you two been together?” Sheila asks as your father turns on the TV and switches through the channels.  
  
“We’ve been dating for almost a month now, but we’ve..-” Chloe makes eye contact with you and you don’t like that devilish look on her face. “-Crossed some lines before that.” Chloe speaks proudly.  
  
“Oh my God.” You wince.  
  
“Really?” Sheila asks way too excited.  
  
“Beca, you told me you were just friends!” Your father speaks insulted.  
  
“Dad, please.”  
  
“You even bit my head off for assuming there was something more going on. It was junior year all over again.”  
  
Chloe’s fingers dig hard into your skin at your father’s words and you don’t have to turn and look to know she’s thrilled about his revelation.  
  
“What happened in junior year?!” Chloe insists on an answer and your dad falters, even after all the different, threatening looks you throw him.  
  
“Well I thought Beca finally made a lady friend in school, but it turned out she made a _lady_ _friend_.”  
  
You cringe at your father’s act to make the story sound hilarious or cool. But you do remember that _friend_. She was the first girl you ever kissed and it quickly moved to other firsts after that, all on the same day. But she wasn’t your girlfriend. She wasn’t even a friend. She was just some girl who was interested in you and she was pretty cool herself. You never actually talked to her before that eventful day, but you had shared some looks from across classrooms, where you’re pretty sure you were just looking angry and confused as to why she was staring at you.  
  
You believe it was a Tuesday when she waited for you outside the PE class and pinned you roughly against a stone pillar before asking you to hang out. You were clever enough to know she didn’t mean _hang out_ , and since you knew the house would be empty, you took her there.  
  
“So I entered the house and I heard these noises.” Your father continues with his story.  
  
You’d love it if the ground beneath your feet gave way and you could disappear into the earth right about now. That would be great.  
  
“But I didn’t really know what was going on, so I called Sheila.”  
  
“Yeah, I remember. He told me he was hearing sounds coming from Beca’s room and he wasn’t sure what to do. He said he’d feel better about it if he could go check up on her and I told him-“  
  
“Because I thought maybe she fell and broke something. There were some serious noises, Sheel.”  
  
“-I said ‘do not go in there’, ‘whatever you do, do not go in there’.”  
  
“So I spent the afternoon on the porch grading tests. Where I could still hear things, by the way.”  
  
You’re literally praying for that hole in the ground to appear underneath you, but it doesn’t look like you’re getting out of this conversation, so you try to hide as much of you as possible, your face in your hands and the rest of you hidden behind your pulled up legs. “Kill me now.” You mumble repeatedly, much to Chloe’s entertainment.  
  
“That’s amazing! I can’t believe you never told me about that, Becs.” Chloe speaks joyfully as she puts her arms around you.  
  
“Maybe because it’s super embarrassing.” You mutter inaudible due to your covered mouth.  
  
“But that wasn’t the worst part.” You dad continues, obviously enjoying the attention he’s getting from the girls in the room. “When the girl left, I know she saw me sitting there, but she just walked past me as if I didn’t exist at all.”  
  
“Would you prefer her coming up to you and shaking your hand, Ben?”  
  
“It would have showed some manners, yes.”  
  
Sheila and Chloe burst out in laughter and you’re glad the joke has moved away from you and turned into your dad.  
  
If the whole thing wasn’t so fucking shameful, maybe you’d laugh, too.  
  
“She must’ve been really good, because you’re never that loud with me.” Chloe whispers in your ear when your dad and Sheila go to refill the empty cups.  
  
“I wasn’t the one screaming!” You mutter while checking if the two adults are out of earshot.  
  
“So it was your first time with a girl and you happened to be mind-blowing?”  
  
“Who said it was my first time?” You speak wondering as Chloe answers with a knowing shrug. “But yes, that’s exactly what happened.” You say with an arrogant wiggle of your shoulders.  
  
“You’re such a liar.” Chloe giggles right when your father and his wife reappear in the living room area. “Do you have more stories like that, Mister Mitchell?” Chloe asks excitedly and you have never been more ready for death.

* * *

/

* * *

  
  
“Becs?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“Beca.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“I’m going for a run.”  
  
“Mhmm.”  
  
“You’re still asleep, aren’t you?”  
  
“M-hmm.”  
  
Beca’s always a little grumpy in the morning and she’s definitely not amused if you wake her up, which isn’t necessary on this first day of the weekend.  
  
You reckon she needs her sleep a little more today after yesterday’s dinner with her father and stepmother. You actually think it went pretty well. There were no arguments or people walking away angry, there was even laughter, but you also know it wasn’t easy for Beca.  
  
You can’t imagine how she feels in her father’s presence, nor will she tell you about that. Beca’s not the kind of person who talks easily about her feelings and you understand that. You decided the best thing for you to do was simply be there for her.  
  
And you think progress is happening between the two. However slow that might be.  
  
You sprint towards Aubrey’s dorm where she’s already stretching and waiting for you. Your best friend seems happier, now that you’re paying attention to it. You definitely think her relationship is doing her good. Stacie gets your friend out of her comfort zone and so far, it looks like it’s working for Aubrey.  
  
You head straight for the shower stalls after your morning run, anxious to wash the sweat off of your body and meet your girlfriend fresh and cleaned up to start the day. Except it seems she hasn’t even moved an inch from where you left her.  
  
“Beca! It’s ten o’clock.”  
  
“Mhhh.”  
  
“No, you’re no longer allowed to be grumpy. Get up!” You jump on the bed and crawl on top of your girlfriend to wake her up.  
  
Beca mumbles and groans a few more times, but her hands find your hips and it seems her body’s awaking. “You smell nice.” She mumbles through a yawn while she rubs at her eyes and opens them for the first time that day. “You showered already?”  
  
Beca looks adorable with her jumbled hair and sleepy eyes, it’s impossible for you to resist, so you lean in and take advantage of your position on top of her.  
  
Even though it’s not that long ago, it’s strange to think it hasn’t always been like this with Beca. You remember the days where you had to fight urges like these, push them far away inside of you and out of Beca’s sight.  
  
Those times seem a lifetime ago.  
  
Now, you can feel yourself stupidly smiling against her lips and you don’t even want to remember a time where you couldn’t allow yourself to do that.  
  
“What do you want to do today, babe?”  
  
“This.” Beca answers as she pulls you closer and deepens the kiss.  
  
You lower your body and keep it hanging in the air, just room enough for air between your bodies as you lightly rock yourself above Beca’s body while continuing to kiss her back. You feel your girlfriend’s hands treasuring the muscles on your back as they dance underneath your shirt and scratch over skin.  
  
Just like every aspect of your relationship, you believe the sex keeps getting better as well. Flirting and foreplay has lifted what you had into a whole, new level of excitement between the two of you. Add to that the growing list of ways Beca turns you on and her ability to take care of that, and you get a dynamic you’re currently loving.  
  
You’ve always known Beca to be capable and effective in her skills to get you to peak. You’ve learned that very early on and you’re remembered of it almost every day. Beca knows exactly how to use her given tools, knows when to go slow and when to pick up the speed, knows when you can take it again and when you need a minute to get control back over your body.  
  
You started to bond with people early on in life. You shared your first kiss with a boy at thirteen, with a girl at age fourteen. You went to second and third base before you were even sixteen. It’s safe to say you’ve had a lot of people in your life who have been able to make you feel loved, however short those moments were sometimes lived.  
  
But none of them can compare to how Beca makes you feel.  
  
Her attentiveness and gentleness isn’t something that’s assembled just for you. It flows through her and shows in everything she does. From the way her fingertips touch your skin to the way her mouth sucks and bites. Everything is done with such care.  
  
That doesn’t mean she’s cautious or timid. Beca scratches and bites and bruises you, she pulls your hair and her hands are able to bring you the greatest frustration you’ve ever felt in your life, but she always lives up to her actions and she always brings satisfaction in the most tender way.  
  
Without ever having to ask, Beca brings you greater pleasure any instructed person ever could in the past.  
  
She brings you greater pleasure you could even ask for.  
  
And the Christmas presents she bought for Stacie, but ended up in your corner, only attribute to that fact, you learn that afternoon.

* * *

  
  
After spending a day in bed with Beca and a private dinner in the evening, you and your girlfriend slowly end up making your way towards Beca’s club. The group agreed to meet around ten thirty, but you’re glad Beca’s okay with going a bit earlier. You love the group of girls, but an hour with Beca alone on the dancefloor seems too good of an opportunity to slip past.  
  
Beca’s an amazing dancer. The Bellas choreography doesn’t always do her justice, but after a drink or two, with music playing that sound like the songs she makes herself, her awkward walls come down just a little and she shows off her moves.  
  
She’s mostly just jumping, but she flips her hair so sexy and rocks her head to the beat with the most attractive face she can pull off with full intention. It makes your body weak and pulls at certain areas in your chest and stomach. But next she’s being goofy with facial expressions and hand gestures and you’ve never had someone who could turn you on and make you laugh so loudly at the same time.  
  
The girls join you eventually and you’re having the time of your life. You particularly like to see Stacie try to ride Beca and your girlfriend’s fight with her when she realizes what’s going on.  
  
After at least two hours on the dancefloor, the girls decide to take a booth in the back right next to the bar and drink up. You buy a round and settle next to your best friend and Ashley with Beca in front of you. She has Stacie’s long legs thrown over her lap and Jessica cuddled into her other side.  
  
Girls leave for the dancefloor and others come back again, always a few occupying the booth you’ve claimed. When you and Beca return from a dance, a girl bumps into you just before you’re able to make it to your seat.  
  
“Hey, you’re that DJ, right? Beca? Oh my God, I am in love with you!”  
  
The blonde girl totally ignores you, even though you’re the one she ran into and you have this feeling her actions might not have been that innocent or accidental. She’s wearing a black, sleeveless crop top that’s quite transparent and it gives a view of the girl’s bra underneath the item. With her hands in her pockets, it makes sure the leather jacket that’s sliding off of her shoulders stays –for the most part- on, as if her toned stomach wasn’t showing enough skin already.  
  
“I come here every weekend just for you, you’re amazing, I love your work.”  
  
“Oh, that’s dedication.” Beca mumbles shyly in return. “But thanks.”  
  
“I’d love to buy you a drink.”  
  
“I already have one.” Beca speaks oblivious and obviously as she raises the drink in her hand.  
  
“It’s the least I can do. I’m at the end of the bar with my friends if you change your mind.” The girl offers as if she’ll leave and let Beca chase after her, but instead she stays where she is.  
  
“That’s nice of you, but I’m here with my own friends, so.”  
  
Suddenly the young woman, more around your age than Beca’s, makes eye contact with you and she reminds you of someone. It’s as if you know her, although you’re sure you’ve never seen her face before.  
  
She’s the girl that Ted cheated on you with.  
  
It’s the girl that stole Tom from you at the dancefloor. The one that bluntly put her hands on him while you were out together for dinner. The girl that had no issue flirting with him after you introduced yourself as his girlfriend.  
  
And you know those are all old wounds and stories of the past, but you feel like the girl you were back then. You get slapped back into a place where you feel like you’re forced to be okay with people flirting with your partners, where you have to smile and act casual while jealousy is roaring inside.  
  
“You should go, Becs.”  
  
You don’t register the words leaving you, but you rationally know they have. You instantly feel sick and dizzy, but you force your muscles to work up a smile and never let your eyes fall even though they’re tired of watching the dumb woman that’s coming onto your girlfriend.  
  
“What?” Beca sounds annoyed. Scratch that, she sounds angry. Honest to God angry. She hasn’t looked at you with that deadly glare in a long time, perhaps ever. “What are you talking about, Chloe?”  
  
“I think you should go. Have fun. She looks like a nice girl.” Your eyes stay on the woman who’s very obviously staring at your girlfriend, unashamed and unafraid. A part of you regrets the words you’ve just said and instead wants to scream at her to never look at Beca like that ever again.  
  
Then her eyes land on you again and the small, blonde woman smiles at you as if she knows exactly what Beca’s relationship status is. You try to match her smug smile, the way you have done so many times before, the smile you’ve forced on yourself while trying to remind yourself you’re the one who gets to go home with them, but it doesn’t do anything to cure your stomach ache.  
  
“I don’t care what she looks like, I’m not going anywhere. Jesus, Chlo, you’re pissing me off.” Beca speaks angry through gritted teeth as she turns away from you. Her jaw locks and her hands show her frustration, making you fear the worst, which isn’t your girlfriend leaving with this rude woman, it’s Beca leaving in general.  
  
You hope your own insecurities and coping mechanisms that have been programmed into you a long time ago haven’t pushed Beca away from you.  
  
“Also, I told you at least six times I’m not interested, can you back off?” Beca’s words aren’t directed at you anymore, but they’re just as harsh, which makes you feel kind of bad that you put Beca in this position towards someone who was obviously a fan of her work.  
  
With shame and a sense of disgust towards yourself, you’re afraid to open your mouth and even unprepared of what to say, so instead you watch the rejected girl turn around with her tail between her legs.  
  
The person you were dating before Beca would never even have considered denying your offer to go hang out with a group of girls or any acceptance shown towards taking someone up on a proposed drink. That doesn’t mean Tom was a bad guy. He was just really, quite-honestly, unbelievably thick.  
  
Which you never realized until now, where you have Beca who seems to know you better than that.  
  
“I can’t fucking believe you. Are you gonna tell me what all that was about?” Beca says frustrated, her hands disappearing into her hair over and over again.  
  
“I wanted you to know you had that option if you wanted to go. That I’m cool with it.” The words taste bitter as they slide over your tongue.  
  
You don’t know why you’re not just being honest. With the girl finally gone, it’s just you and Beca and you wouldn’t have to keep up this charade anymore. You know you can tell Beca anything and she would never judge you, but it’s what you’d think of yourself if you finally admitted these things that scare you. A lot of old scars would be reopened and a lot of blame would come boiling out of them.  
  
“Bullshit! You didn’t _give me an option_.” Beca says insulted. “You basically threw me into her arms. You knew damn well I didn’t want to go with her.”  
  
“I’m sorry.”  
  
“Do you see me as all the other people you’ve dated? Am I just something casual to you?”  
  
You can actually see the pain in Beca’s eyes as she says those words. She allows you to see that for a split second, because next she turns her eyes away from you and downs her glass which still contained at least half of her alcoholic drink and you know it burns her throat, even if she acts like it didn’t.  
  
Beca doesn’t easily get her feelings hurt. She’s either too indifferent about something or someone’s opinion on her or she’s confident enough to know her own value above anything else. That’s why this hurts you so much. Beca thinks you don’t care enough about her and your relationship to protect that. You don’t even want to stop and think about how long she might have felt like that.  
  
You want to pull her towards you, scream that you love her and she means more to you than any other ever has, but you can’t. You’re not ready to have this conversation with the girl and to finally accept that you were the reason all your relationships thus far have failed.  
  
Maybe you can add this one to the list by the end of the night.  
  
“Beca..”  
  
“You can’t even deny it, can you?” Beca scoffs insulted and shocked. Her eyes dart around your face and then around the room while her head lightly shakes in disbelief. It’s the same act she performed right before she pulled your beds together, only this time the realization that’s happening inside her head isn’t going to bring the two of you closer.  
  
“I can.” You can hear your own voice crack, because you know it won’t matter what you say right now. Beca’s already halfway gone and you can’t stop her.  
  
“That’s not an answer, Chloe.” Beca whispers softly before disappearing in the crowd of people around you.  
  
You feel like you can’t breathe.  
  
You feel like your lungs and perhaps other organs as well have been ripped from your body.  
  
You breathe in deeply, but it doesn’t fill anything. It just disappears into a void inside of you, an emptiness where your heart and lungs used to be.  
  
Perhaps you’re overreacting. Perhaps you’re panicking. Okay, you’re definitely panicking.  
  
“Chlo? Chlo, what’s going on?!”  
  
You register it’s Aubrey’s voice, but it’s barely a dim sound and you can’t find the strength inside of you to reply. Tears sting your eyes and you feel like you’re about to pass out.  
  
Aubrey throws your arm around her neck and she manages to guide you outside as she yells at people to move. When you finally feel fresh air entering your lungs, it calms you but releases a lot of other emotions you’ve been holding in.  
  
“I fucked up, Bree.” You cry as your best friend comforts you.  
  
It takes you a few minutes to get yourself together again before you’re able to tell Aubrey what happened. You haven’t talked to her about these personal issues in a while. Probably since the event with Tom occurred.  
  
Aubrey listens to you talk and eventually allows silence to fill the space between you.  
  
“I know I have no right to speak, but what you and Tom had wasn’t healthy.”  
  
_Your best friend is right on both occasions.  
_  
“And I might not personally be a fan of Beca, but she’s good for you. I’ve never seen you happier, Chlo. And I don’t think she’s interested in what you and Tom had.”  
  
“You’re right. I don’t think she would drunkenly cheat on me with you.”  
  
You didn’t mean for those words to be more than just a thought, but they slipped past your barriers and they hurt, but the spoken words also take some of the pain away.  
  
Aubrey looks at you shocked and ashamed. Now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think you’ve ever discussed the topic with your best friend. You have especially never called her out on it like this.  
  
“Too soon?” You say apologetic and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you. Aubrey bursts out in laughter as well and she rests her head on your shoulder before taking a deep breath.  
  
“You know that I feel awful about that right?”  
  
Your best friend told you after that painful revelation last year that it was her intention to get you to break up with your boyfriend and she didn’t know how else she would get that done. Aubrey liked Tom in the beginning of your relationship. They got along quite well, but after some time that changed. Your best friend would encourage you to discuss some boundaries with him. After a while, that encouragement changed to aggressively trying to get you to break up with him.  
  
Her reasons were profound. She had showed you screenshots from conversations with girls in her class. She told you at least once a week how he hooked up with a random girl at a party. The truth is, you knew all of that. You believed everything your best friend told you, because you had seen some of it with your own two eyes, but it wasn’t a reason for you to dump him.  
  
It was just the way your relationship with the man worked. You had no right to call him out on it. At least that’s what you had thought back then.  
  
But Aubrey didn’t agree and eventually allowed her obsessive nature get the better hand of her and she did the only thing she knew would make you break up with Tom.  
  
“I know, Bree.”  
  
You know better than anyone that your best friend was looking out for you, but that doesn’t make what she did right. The pain is still very much present and things have never quite been the same between the two of you.  
  
But you love Aubrey. She’s been your best friend ever since you can remember and you know she had good intentions, just a very poorly executed plan.  
  
Silence takes over once again and you enjoy it. You enjoy the way your best friend’s curled into your side, the way her hair feels when you run your hand through it, how her body keeps you a little warmer in the cold night.  
  
You will fight through the pain of those old wounds just for the sake of moments like these, where you have your best friend close and wrapped in your arms.  
  
“You know you have to talk to Beca about this, Chlo.”  
  
“I know.” You sigh as you release Aubrey and mentally start to prepare yourself for that conversation.  
  
You allow yourself to get dragged back inside the building and after a mental and physical motivation from your best friend, you stumble towards the bar where you’re pretty sure you’ll find your girlfriend.  
  
She’s seated on a high chair with her hands around a glass facing the bar with her head hanging low in defeat. Your first thought is that she’s gorgeous and you can’t blame anyone for making a move on her. The second is how you’ll happily spend your entire life fighting the people off of her.  
  
You make your way through the crowd around the bar and take the empty seat next to Beca. “Hey.” You decide to start the conversation, but Beca doesn’t look up from her glass.  
  
“Hey.” She mumbles back in return.  
  
“Can we go outside to talk, please?” You plead as you have to yell close to her ear. It’s funny how you can barely hear yourself, yet you can hear Beca’s scoff. Or perhaps your mind just fills in the blank.  
  
Beca shakes her head, still visibly angry and annoyed by what happened, but she takes your hand and leads you towards the exit. Outside, it’s pitch dark and colder than it felt earlier. You should have grabbed your coat before you went to find Beca, but that doesn’t matter anymore.  
  
All that matters is fixing things with your girlfriend.  
  
“When I was with Tom, and maybe anyone I’ve ever been with, there were always people hitting on him when we’d go out. He was good-looking and had this amazing smile. He was everyone's type. I couldn’t blame people for coming onto him. I think it was even before him that I had this standard for myself that I had to be the fun and relaxed girl, and jealousy didn’t go well with that image.”  
  
Beca takes a seat next to you on the cold street and takes your hand in hers.  
  
“I was so obsessed with people liking me, even strangers, that I just acted like I wasn’t jealous and that I was fine with whatever these girls offered him. A drink. A dance. Their number. It bothered me, but I made sure I never let that show. After a while, it became natural and I could ignore the way it made me feel a little easier.”  
  
You look over to Beca and find her calm and attentively listening to every word you’re letting her hear. It makes you smile to see she’s here with you.  
  
“I guess I didn’t know how to handle that girl coming onto you, so I went with what I’ve always done.”  
  
Beca sniffs and nods her head in understanding. “Alright, well at least we have found something we have in common.” Beca says as she stares off into the darkness around you.  
  
“You also have years of built-in personal issues and fear of commitment?” You joke.  
  
“No.” Beca states matter-of-factly with a laugh before she continues seriously. “You act like you’re the most open and approachable person on earth, -and you are!-but you also don’t let anyone see beyond the cheery and optimistic layers of yourself, you know? You shut people out just like me. It’s great. I love it.” Beca ends with a huge smile.  
  
You never actually thought of it like that, but your girlfriend’s words make sense to you.  
  
“Come on, it’s freezing.” Beca says as she rises to her feet and reaches out both of her hands for you to take and pull you off of the curb. You stumble into her arms and she laughs, her hands moving to fix your hair as her eyes glister in the dark night. Now, more than ever, the word love lays heavily on your tongue. You’ve loved Beca for a long time, but tonight, right here, with her.. It’s overwhelming your every sense. You feel like you’re going to explode if you don’t let the words out.  
  
“Beca, you know that I love you and you have never been something casual to me, right?”  
  
Beca smiles softly as her cheeks blush and then she shyly looks to her feet. “I know.” She whispers.  
  
“So we’re good?” You ask, mostly so Beca won’t think you’re waiting for her to say it back.  
  
“Of course we’re good.” She says before leaning in and kissing your lips passionately. “Come on. The girls are gonna think Lilly’s locked us up somewhere for ransom.”


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "It’s one thing to fall in love. It’s another to feel someone else fall in love with you, and to feel a responsibility toward that love." -David Levithan
> 
> /

You never thought you’d be one of those people who would sit at the bar to drink their sorrows away, but that’s what you think you look like when you order another vodka from the bartender you recognize as the usual guy covering the Saturday night shift.  
  
You’re the first to admit what you have with Chloe is complicated and in development. You’re still finding your way within the relationship yourself. You bump things over and you make mistakes, but you’re learning.  
  
Chloe, on the other hand, seems to know how to handle most things. Apart from the bed situation in the first week of being a couple, the girl has managed herself in every circumstance presented to you.  
  
Maybe that’s why her actions tonight hurt you. She’s been really great and you never saw this coming.  
  
She’s told you a little about her previous relationship and you were there for her when her high school boyfriend back in Kansas informed her of his infidelity. You were aware that she’s had some issues in the past with herself and the people she dated. You foolishly thought those were in the past.  
  
You know she must have her reasons, but she doesn’t seem to be open to sharing them with you. Which is the real punch in the gut, because you’ve been trying really hard to open yourself up more to the girl.  
  
You down another drink to match the ache you felt when Chloe couldn’t tell you what the two of you have is serious. Which is kind of crazy when you think about it. You’ve only been officially dating for a month, but you could never call the girl _casual_.  
  
Apparently, she thinks otherwise.  
  
“Can I get another one, Greg.” You state more than ask the young man behind the bar.  
  
“Sure thing, Beca.” The guy says hesitant. He knows you better than to deny your request.  
  
Greg gets the bottle and fills your glass a little under the standard. You decide not to complain about it. Your hands reach for the glass when someone appears beside you and snatches the drink from the table and downs it in one go.  
  
Stacie doesn’t look at you as she puts the glass back down and satisfyingly starts to dance while seated in the chair next to you.  
  
“Dude!” You say just to get her attention. “What the hell?”  
  
Stacie just winks at you before pulling the bartender forward with her hand clenched into his shirt. “I will sleep with you if you cut this little eyeline-monster off for the rest of the night.”  
  
You watch how Greg’s eyes grow and his head quickly shakes in agreement. Stacie releases him and falls back into her seat. You look at her in disbelief and confusion, not sure what exactly just happened.  
  
“Men believe anything you tell them.” Stacie casually replies to your look before turning to face you. “Are you going to tell me what happened or do I have to ask?”  
  
You sigh and your hands cover the empty glass for the sake of holding onto something. “It’s nothing.” You manage to say through your still-present anger.  
  
“This isn’t an option, Beca. You can either talk to me or go talk to Chloe, but you can’t sit at the bar and mope.”  
  
“I can do whatever I want.” You mumble, annoyed the tall girl you started to befriend is right and calls you out on what you’re doing instead of feeding your sullen mood.  
  
“We both know what you want isn’t anywhere near this bar.” Stacie speaks smug as she grabs a bottle of vodka from behind the bar, her long arms showing their service. She leans in and presses her wet lips to your cheek, which you childishly wipe clean to show your resistance to the act.  
  
Stacie has left and you’re alone again. You hate to admit that you felt better with the girl next to you. You hate the part of you that wanted to talk about what happened, but you were aware that she wasn’t the right person to discuss this with.  
  
Chloe is.  
  
You know walking away from her was a mistake. You could’ve stayed to hear her out, but you felt anger and rejection stinging inside of you and you had to get away from the situation at that point. But now that you’ve calmed down, you just want to find your girlfriend.  
  
While deciding where to take your feet in your quest, you’re startled by a hand falling between your shoulder blades and caressing its way down your back. “How about a drink now?” The woman asks as she settles her arm around you and stays on her feet, her body a little too close to your face to be friendly.  
  
“Like I said, I’m good. Thanks.” You say for good measurement. The girl is nice and you’ve been rather rude already.  
  
“How about a drinking partner? You look lonely here.”  
  
You watch how the girl tries to make eye contact with Greg to order and she makes an attempt to sit down on the chair next to you, although you’d appreciate the space between her and you, you don’t want to give her the wrong idea. You came here to brood about what happened with Chloe earlier. You’re not planning to make things worse, which is definitely going to be the case if your girlfriend finds you seated next to this girl that’s the root of your argument. Although you know the girl is just an excuse who made it possible for the real issues to show to the surface.  
  
“Look, you’re really nice and very pretty.” You say appreciative and hoping to undo the damage your blunt words caused earlier. “But I’m dating the girl you saw me with earlier.”  
  
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The girl speaks quick as she moves to her feet. “I didn’t know. She didn’t act like you were taken.”  
  
“Well, I am.” You say with a tight-lipped smile and a rather indifferent shrug, the realization of someone else noticing Chloe’s behavior doesn’t cheer you up right now. If anything, it hurts more.  
  
“Guess I’m gonna have to admire you from a distance.” The girl flirts before she walks away from you.  
  
You’re just relieved she has left your side and your mind goes back to Chloe and where she could be. Just as you’ve convinced yourself to check certain places, the girl seems to have found you.  
  
Hearing Chloe’s voice again reminds you of her spoken and unspoken words earlier tonight. They both hurt equally, but you need to keep in mind that you’ve made your own share of mistakes and Chloe’s forgiven and given you second chances as well.  
  
You push yourself away from the bar and find your way towards the exit. Once you’ve made it outside, Chloe pulls away from you and finds her comfort on the cold pavement. Her face looks serious, sad and hurting all at the same time.  
  
Part of you feels bad for putting your girlfriend in this position. Part of you wants to hold her in your arms and tell her it’s okay if she isn’t ready to talk about this. Tell her that you can wait forever if that’s what it takes.  
  
But Chloe starts to talk and you force yourself to simply listen, to connect the dots from these stories of her past to what happened minutes ago in the club. Because if Chloe can open up to you, however painful it might be, the least you can do is listen and understand her better than you did before.  
  
You didn’t want to push her to confess, you just needed an explanation. Actually, all you need from the girl is for her to feel comfortable to let you in, even on the not-so-pretty parts of herself, even though you only see her as more beautiful after her words.  
  
“Beca, you know that I love you and you have never been something casual to me, right?”  
  
It’s the second time you get to hear those words coming from your girlfriend’s mouth and aimed at you.  
  
But unlike the first time, your body relaxes and it feels like you’re thrown into an ice cold bath on the hottest summer day, or as if your ticket has won the lottery, or when the waiter brings you your dinner before you’ve even had time to complain about how long you’ve been waiting.  
  
You feel relief. You feel lucky. You feel like it’s everything you ever needed.  
  
“I know.” You reply in a whisper.  
  
Chloe starts to talk and you know why. You don’t know if you would’ve said it back if she had left the ball in your corner and kept her silence. You don’t know if you could have. But you know you do. Maybe that’s enough for now.  
  
“You never told me how you and Tom broke up.” You remember as you and Chloe head back inside the club.  
  
“That’s a story for another time.” Chloe smiles and you accept that.  
  
Your girlfriend instantly drags you with her to the middle of the dancefloor and you happily follow her lead. She dances a little more hands-on this time, kisses your lips more often and more passionately, but you don’t mind that at all.  
  
“Oh, that girl from earlier?” You yell in your girlfriend’s ear to overcome the loud beats. You wait until she nods before you continue. “Yeah, she came up to me at the bar just before you did. Offered me a drink again.” You state with a roll of the eyes, but you can feel Chloe giggling against your neck.  
  
“What’d you say?” She asks as she pulls away from you and rests her arms around your neck, her hips slowly moving against you.  
  
“I told her I was in a relationship with you.”  
  
Chloe smiles brightly, her lips tugging shortly before she sucks them between her teeth and looks at you sheepishly. You raise your eyebrow at her and then she bursts out in laughter.  
  
“Hey, Becs?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Next time someone comes onto you, can I be the one to tell them that?”

* * *

  
  
“Captains choose!” Cynthia-Rose yells. She appears to be the first one who’s exchanged her own pair for the disgusting bowling shoes.  
  
“Is it like a rule that these have to be ugly? Is that like a bowling thing?” You ask your girlfriend who seems to have way too much fun putting hers on.  
  
She winks at you and leans in to kiss your lips. “I think they look great on you.” She states simply.  
  
“That’s not a compliment.” You mutter.  
  
The bowling area is lit up in different colors, they have loud music playing and the sound of joy is everywhere.  
  
 It’s disgusting.  
  
When most of the girls are ready, the two lanes get their lighting on and it shows bright lighted pins at the end of the track. The balls waiting to be thrown are also glowing and it’s kind of a cool view.  
  
Although you’d never admit that out loud. Chloe wouldn’t let you hear the end of it if she ever found out you like these kind of settings.  
  
“Fair enough, Chloe and I will pick the teams. My first choice is Beca.”  
  
Every girl goes dead quiet and Ashley even drops her phone in shock. You feel petrified of the Coach’ reason behind the words and what’s next to come.  
  
“Me? I don’t-“ You stammer as your eyes go to Chloe’s for a rescue mission, but she’s enjoying this way too much to help you. “Why!” You eventually shout out.  
  
“You’re good at hitting things.” Aubrey says with an arrogant smile. “If you can use these balls to hit the pins like you did with your fist and that guy’s nose..”  
  
You roll your eyes, knowing she’s just picking opportunities to mock you in front of the group. You finish your fight with the red-white shoes and lean over to kiss Chloe’s lips quickly before heading over to Coach’s lane.  
  
Your girlfriend takes the other lane and chooses Stacie. You try to help Aubrey with picking a good team member, but she fails to listen.  
  
“I said Ashley!”  
  
“I pointed at Ashley!”  
  
“That’s Jessica!”  
  
_Those hoodies you bought for those two would really come in handy today.  
_  
Chloe picks Ashley, of course. You throw her an angry glare, but you should know by now she’s immune to your intimidation.  
  
Lilly joins your team, Cynthia-Rose goes to Chloe’s side and Amy stays seated.  
  
“I’m gonna keep score.” Amy states.  
  
“The computers keep the score, Amy.”  
  
“Okay, you got me. I just don’t want to participate.”  
  
Aubrey starts on your lane and Chloe does the same on her team. She looks great with her hair up and her focus on. Her hands easily lift the heavy bowling balls and she casually walks to the beginning of the lane where she throws the ball over the smooth, wooden floor, fast and light at the same time, making it seem like the ball is flying as she easily knocks six pins over.  
  
Chloe jumps up in the air, happily and cheering for herself, and you have absolutely no other choice than to watch her.  
  
The girl looks beautiful with everything she does, but she’s never more gorgeous than when she’s unlimitedly and unrestrictedly happy.  
  
“Jessica, you’re next. Lilly, you’re after that and Beca, you’re last.”  
  
“Why am I last?!” You complain immediately.  
  
Aubrey sighs annoyed and as if she knew you would ask that question, she holds her breath and steps aside to give you a view of Jessica’s first throw and how Lilly seems to be testing which ball swirls the fastest. “Because I need you to make up for those two.” Aubrey speaks serious. “You have to be the one to finish strong. We can’t lose this, Beca.”  
  
“You’re right.”  
  
The two words were supposed to stay in your head, but by the shocked look on your Coach’ face, you think they slipped your mouth.  
  
“Don’t get used to that.” You roll your eyes at the woman while eying Lilly’s first ball, which goes straight into the gutter.  
  
At the same time, Chloe’s team cheers for Ashley who just knocked over all ten pins in one go.  
  
You take a deep breath and walk towards the middle where you carefully pick a ball of the right weight. It’s definitely not the one Chloe used, but it’s not the lightest ball either. You concentrate at the pins at the end of the lane, take two slow steps and swing your arm from right in front of your body all the way back and towards the lane as fast as you can. The ball comes down a few feet down the road and in a fast pace crashes into the colored pins, leaving not one standing.  
  
Your team starts to cheer ecstatically while you turn to face them, arrogance taking over your facial features as the girls crush into you to hug you. Even Aubrey’s laughing and shouting while her arms land around Jessica and Lilly who are holding onto you, so technically Coach isn’t hugging you, but it still feels like it.  
  
“How does it feel to get your ass handed to you, Ashley!” You yell at the other team while you all return to your seats except for Aubrey who’s preparing for her second round.  
  
“Eat me, Mitchell!”  
  
From your seat, you watch Chloe ending her turn while Aubrey’s still contemplating which ball to use. Amy’s aggressively yelling at her, telling her to pick, but when she does, asking her if she’s sure she wants to throw with _that_ ball.  
  
It’s kind of funny to watch.  
  
“Did you know you’re extremely hot when you get all serious and competitive?”  
  
You didn’t even see your girlfriend leaving her side and crossing yours, so you’re a little startled when you find her leaning over into your personal space, even though she has never had any sense of that. The girl’s rocking back and forth on her feet while her hands hold a grip on either armrest beside you, giving you either a great view of her cleavage as she moves in or pushing her butt out and into the air, showing her curves off even better.  
  
“I did _not_ know that.” You say playful as your hands tangle itself into ginger curls for the sake of physical contact.  
  
Chloe hums seductively as she continues to swing back and forth. Your eyes can’t choose a favorite body part to stay glued on with so many to admire. “It’s a big turn on.” Your girlfriend breathes out as she once again comes closer, this time pushing your head back by using her forehead against yours, her mouth opening with her lips touching your mouth, making it easy for you take her bottom lip, to lick into her mouth, to suck on her tongue.  
  
Her lingering lips feel warm and soft against yours, the feeling builds anticipation in your chest as your eyes flutter shut and you breathe the girl in before going in for the sweet pleasure she never fails to bring.  
  
Except the set of lips are gone before you can get a taste and it takes you a second to open your eyes and step out of the bliss Chloe brought you. Aubrey’s got a hold of your girlfriend’s body and she’s forcefully dragging her back to her seat. However, Chloe’s eyes are still set on you, her teeth biting hard into her bottom lip as those darkened pupils weaken your body.  
  
“There will be no distractions, Chlo!” Coach speaks firm as she sits Chloe down. “I can’t believe you fell for that, Beca.” Aubrey says disappointed as she returns to your side and sits down next to you.  
  
The words barely hit you as you watch your girlfriend giggle deviously into her hands, her eyes still filled with lust and desire, letting it show she might have an agenda coming over to you, but she played herself as well.  
  
“You’re up next. I need you to be focused.” Aubrey explains as she frightfully watches Lilly throw the ball.  
  
“I am focused.” You say as you continue to watch your girlfriend, watch how she moves her hands over her chest and stomach, watch how she spreads her legs a little too obvious to be subtle, but you don’t care much about that at the moment.  
  
Aubrey ends up having to push you towards the bowling lane and even hand you a ball, because Chloe’s body movements are just too distracting.  
  
“Are Beca and Chloe having sex?” Amy asks confused.  
  
Ashley high-fives your girlfriend and Stacie unbuttons at least three buttons on Chloe’s shirt, showing more of her bra and skin than you can handle.  
  
“That’s better.” Stacie says and you watch her throw Aubrey a wink.  
  
“Stace, stop encouraging them! Beca, please remember this is the first time I’ve put my faith in you. Don’t let me down.” Aubrey pleads almost desperate as she releases the ball she gave to you and takes a few steps back. “And if you do, I have the power to kick you out of the Bellas.”  
  
_There’s the Coach you know.  
_  
You roll your eyes and dismiss the insanity coming from Aubrey as you position yourself and take the steps towards the beginning of the lane. Your feet are a little unsteady and you blame Chloe for weakening your knees, but you manage to knock over all the pins anyway. Calm and collected, you turn smug at your achievement. Jessica hugs you once again, quickly, and Lilly and Aubrey high-five you, which is a little strange, but it’s nice the two of you are getting along to a certain extent.  
  
It’s Aubrey’s turn after your little celebration and you take advantage of that by slipping over to Chloe’s side. She looks pleased with herself and confident, like always, expecting you to say something about her actions, but instead you cup her face with your hands and press your lips onto your girlfriend’s.  
  
She’s taken back by the sudden move, but she catches up eventually, to which you deepen the kiss to stay in control. You pull back and disappear quickly from her side, leaving your girlfriend breathless in her seat.  
  
“You guys are adorable!” Jessica squeals.  
  
You smile at the girl before putting your index finger over your mouth and hint at Aubrey’s return. The girl seems to be suspicious, but Jessica starts to praise her technique and you hold up your hand for her to slap, and that takes away any doubt she had, luckily.  
  
As the match continues, your team stays in the lead, but Chloe’s group isn’t far behind. Cynthia-Rose gets increasingly better while Lilly somehow accomplishes to get worse than the low bar she had set for herself. Aubrey and Chloe keep knocking over seven or eight pins, Stacie follows their lead if she isn’t too busy riding the bowling balls, and Jessica keeps trying really hard to get more than five to fall down. Your job is to not allow them a lead and keep Ashley’s number lower than yours.  
  
After round eight, you decide to get everyone a refill and Chloe joins you, even after Aubrey’s scolding look.  
  
“You’re sweating, babe.” Chloe notices as you walk hand-in-hand to the center’s bar.  
  
“I know, it’s crazy hot in here.” You complain. “Did you get what Stacie wanted?”  
  
“I thought you did, Becs.” Chloe speaks as she jumps up on a barstool and awaits the bartender.  
  
“Shit, I’ll go back.” You mumble. The girls are only a few feet away and you can tell they’ve taken a break. Ashley and Jessica are cuddled into one another while talking to Cynthia-Rose and Amy, Lilly’s placed on the wooden floor and looking over the lanes as if it’s a beautiful sunset, and then your eyes find Stacie.  
  
Chloe’s hands pull you back and she contently leaves her arms around you. “It seems Stacie’s already getting what she wants.” Chloe giggles while enjoying the scene. You, on the other hand, can’t seem to pull your eyes off of that disgusting sight.  
  
Stacie’s hands are tangled into Aubrey’s hair, her hips pushed into the other woman who has her fingers firmly dug into the taller girl’s back to keep herself up due to the force brought onto her body by her significant other.  
  
The couple usually isn’t overly affectionate and you always assumed that was because of Coach. They hold hands and share kisses, you’ve seen them exchange loving looks and smiles, but nothing to this extent. They have perhaps forgotten this bowling center is kid friendly and not the right time to French kiss passionately.  
  
“Oh my God, I saw tongue. I’m never gonna get that removed from my memory.” You wince as if you’re in physical pain as you turn towards your girlfriend, in need of the comfort she brings you. “I can’t believe this, she’s been scolding us all afternoon for sharing looks and now what is she doing?!”  
  
“She’s making out with her girlfriend. Did you forget your tongue has been in my mouth only minutes ago, Becs?”  
  
“No.” You roll your eyes and face the empty bar, annoyed that your girlfriend is right once again. “Do we look like them?” You cringe at the realization. When you kiss Chloe, you never thought of the sight it could be to other people. That people even from a distance can see your tongue entering the other girl’s mouth.  
  
“We look better.” Chloe smiles devilish before pulling you into a kiss.  
  
From the corner of your eye you can sense someone approaching and when you open one eyelid, you watch how an uncomfortable bartender just backs out of the area.  
  
“No, wait, sir, we-, Damn it!”  
  
Chloe just laughs and pulls your lips back on hers.

* * *

  
  
The last round starts with the two teams close together in points. Aubrey gets nine pins down, Chloe knocks over six out of the ten, Jessica gets the entire right half to fall, Stacie scores a solid seven, Lilly throws the ball backwards onto the lane while whispering something about death, but manages to get two points, somehow. Cynthia-Rose throws two times three and then it’s up to you and Ashley.  
  
“Ladies first, Mitchell.”  
  
“Don’t act like a gentlewoman after all the words you’ve used today, Ashley.”  
  
The group laughs and you await their silence before rushing the ball over the smooth path where it leaves just two on their feet. Unsatisfied, you grab another ball and wait for the lane to be cleared.  
  
“Come on, Beca!”  
  
“Two more!”  
  
“You got this, babe.”  
  
“Chlo, don’t cheer for the enemies!”  
  
You end up with a spare and Ashley’s ball drifts too much from the main course, so your team comes out on top.  
  
Aubrey is ecstatic and your entire team starts jumping up and down in a victory circle. Fat Amy even joins you in joy.  
  
“I’m just a little late with picking a team. Chloe knows what I’m talking about, right Red?”  
  
Chloe smiles but you can tell that she doesn’t get the joke, which only makes it funnier to you.

* * *

/ **  
  
**

* * *

  
  
You don’t think you’ve ever been more ready to hit a strip club than you are today.  
  
After Beca winning from your team at the bowling center, she and Ashley have been making a competition out of every activity you take part in. Ashley beat Beca at go-cart riding and you’ve never seen your girlfriend more grumpy than that evening. Paintball managed to cheer her up. You were unable to rule a winner out of the two bruised and severally hit girls, but Beca claimed victory anyway.

Even now, as you’re following Stacie’s lead towards her chosen occupation for the night, Beca and Ashley are still trying to find matches to compete over in the streets.  
  
“I bet you I can climb that tree faster than you.”  
  
“Try me!”  
  
It takes a firm grip on Beca’s jacket to prevent that from happening. “Babe, you don’t wanna do that with your bruised knee.” You reason with the limping girl beside you as you slide an arm around her body.  
  
Maybe you’re taking advantage of the fact that your girlfriend has paintball-sized bruises all over her body and it enables her to crave your physical support, but you’re loving the constant intimacy over these last few hours.  
  
Beca’s not exactly big on affection. Not specifically in public, but in general, there are few moments where she’ll cling to your body just for the comfort of it. And you know that’s just who Beca is. A lot of things have slowly moved to a different level, such as the way she sleeps next to you, but you accept as much as she gives you and you’d never ask for more.  
  
But you’d also never decline her arms holding onto you for support.  
  
“We’re here, girls!” Stacie cheers with her arms thrown up in the air to which the group start to holler.  
  
“Here goes nothing.” Beca complains as if she’s entering her last resort. You just laugh at her words.  
  
The strip club looks modern and classy. The interior is entirely in red and black. The girls on stage are in underwear and the few men scattered around to watch are in suits with fitting ties.  
  
“Right on, where is the men candy? This Aussie needs some sausages!”  
  
“Amy, I explained this to you already.” Stacie simply shrugs, unsurprised by the girl’s words.  
  
“This is a gentlemen’s club. There are no male dancers here.” Aubrey speaks matter-of-factly.  
  
Amy looks sad as she lowers herself into a seat. “No meat for my barbeque?”  
  
“What does that even mean?”  
  
“Yeah, that makes no sense..”  
  
“It means my vagina is hungry and it’s gonna roast the-“  
  
The girls, yourself included, cringe louder than the end of Amy’s sentence and you couldn’t be more happy about that, except your mind can fill in the blank which you really didn’t need.  
  
“You’re so weird.” Beca laughs as she’s the last of the group to sit down.  
  
The table you’re seated on is rather close to the main stage where numerous hot girls are dancing erotically. Almost immediately, a waitress in a corset comes up to your group to take your order. The woman winks at your girlfriend as she heads back to the bar and Beca’s cheeks light up instantly.  
  
“You look adorable when you’re flustered. I should’ve taken you to a strip club sooner, Becs!” You hear the enthusiasm in your own voice.  
  
“Shut up. I’ve never had a woman in a corset wink at me, okay.” Beca says defensively, only making herself seem cuter than before.  
  
Soon, the drinks start pouring and the girls loosen up. Stacie’s up on stage and dancing with the ladies within the hour and she only has to reach out and silently asking you to join for you to hop on that stage with her.  
  
You don’t know if it’s the appropriate thing to do in a place like this. You don’t know if it’s okay to just dance on stage, but the bouncers stay where they are and the women on stage don’t seem to mind you dancing with them.  
  
They don’t seem to mind at all.  
  
A tall, blonde girl is almost immediately grinding on you. Her fingers fighting through her own locks of hair and nails digging into her skull as she moves to the music and rocks her hips against you with her mouth hanging open.  
  
Besides the obvious contact, she keeps her hands to herself and so do you. You spot Stacie a few feet behind you on the stage. She seems to have gotten herself to be the –what Amy would call- brisket in a female sandwich. Two brunettes have your friend trapped between their bodies, moving to a whole other level than you do with your current dancing partner.  
  
The Bellas seem to love the happening.  
  
They’re laughing and throwing dollar bills onto the stage.  
  
Aubrey, however, doesn’t seem to like it as you watch her storm onto the stage and drag her girlfriend away from the two buns that made the sandwich. Stacie laughingly follows your best friend off the stage while you hear Aubrey scold her.  
  
“You always do these things, Stace!”  
  
It reminds you of the girl you’re dating and how this situation makes her feel. You find her seated next to Amy, slouching in her chair, a great smile on her face as she has the tip of her index finger trapped between her teeth.  
  
But there’s one thing in specific that tells you she’s more than okay with what you’re doing.  
  
Her eyes are dark and glued to your body, and they resemble the look she has when you position your face between her legs and tease her with your tongue. The look that practically begs you to take care of her. The look that you see right before her eyes roll back into her head.  
  
Beca doesn’t hide her jealousy from you, unlike you a few nights ago. She’s been visibly possessive of you in certain situations even before you became official. She wasn’t happy when you went out with Hannah, she went out of her way to kiss you in front of your high school boyfriend, and all of those make sense to you now.  
  
But after you became her girlfriend, she hasn’t let that show as much. Sure, she got jealous when her store manager was being nice to you. But she doesn’t chase away people who give you a second glance, even when you know she noticed it. She doesn’t tell you that you can’t dance with random guys during karaoke night. She doesn’t get angry to defend your honor like a knight in shining armor.  
  
And a part of you remembers what you once craved. A jealous partner. Someone who wouldn’t accept you dancing with others, someone who’d want to be around you, constantly. Who wouldn’t let you out of their sight. Someone who’d jump on stage just like Aubrey just did and drag you away from potential threats.  
  
But when you look into Beca’s lust-filled eyes, you know you don’t need that from her.  
  
Beca could never be the person that acts like she owns you. Like she could control you or put chains on you. And you wouldn’t want that.  
  
You only now realize that whenever you did feel like you craved jealousy out of your partner, what you actually wanted was understanding, caring, trust and love. All of those you find in Beca’s eyes right this second.  
  
You feel your stomach turn at realization of the level of peace that Beca brings into your relationship. You feel like you can be yourself. Because you _are_ that person who will jump on stage and dance with random professional, exotic dancers. But you’re also the kind of person who gets jealous when people hit on your girlfriend. It’s a relief that you now know that you don’t have to hide either part of yourself.  
  
You break yourself away from the dancing girl and move to the front of the stage, the spot closest to where your friends are seated. You exaggerate your actions to the point of crawling over the floor and moving your body in a way you know gains your girlfriend’s attention.  
  
You point at Beca when you’re close to the edge and she instantly starts to shake her head. “No way, dude. You’re insane.” She’s laughing and it’s obvious she’s not joining you on stage.  
  
The girls in addition start to cheer, both for your body movements and Beca to take the offer.  
  
“Come here.” You use your eyes to put desperation to your request. You watch how your girlfriend lifts herself out of the chair, her eyes rolling in annoyance as if you were expecting anything less, and she stops right in front of you, making it obvious she’s not setting a foot on stage.  
  
You never thought she would.  
  
You move in and try to find a level where you can kiss her appropriately, which is you on your knees and Beca on her toes.  
  
“Alright, that’s enough!”  
  
“Keep it classy, guys. We’re in a strip club!”  
  
“I’m gonna throw dollars at you two if you don’t stop making out now.”  
  
The commentary of the group of girls eventually cause you to break the kiss, but it doesn’t stop them from putting their money in your clothing openings.  
  
“Really? You guys are really-? Okay.” Beca states as she gets dollar bills slipped into her shirt. “Thank you for this.” Beca aims her words at you now, making sure you feel how loaded with sarcasm they are.  
  
“You’re welcome, Becs.” You say honestly, ignoring her irony and enjoying the roll of her eyes you knew was coming.

* * *

  
  
New Year’s Eve for your group of girls technically starts in the early hours of the afternoon where Stacie makes it her mission to get everyone’s organs floating in alcohol. Her self-made cocktails taste great, but you know the alcohol-to-juice rate is a lot higher than it should be.  
  
“Mitchell, come on!”  
  
“I’m not drinking before my gig.” Beca speaks persistent. You’ve been able to change the girl’s mind in a few occasions over the last few months, but you know that when she’s like this, nothing can get her to even take a sip. The look on her face is as serious as it gets and she’s obviously made up her mind.  
  
“She’s nervous for tonight.” You giggle as your arms fall around your girlfriend’s neck and you pull her towards you to kiss her cheek.  
  
“Am not.” Beca grumbles and tries to get out of your touch, but your arms are too strong for her to fight.  
  
You know Beca won’t ever admit to that, but you can see it in the little things. Her fingers tap a little more and a little faster than they usually do during dinner, her impatience with the slow walkers on the way to the club, the way she doesn’t listen to the stories you tell her at the bar, but she acts like she does.  
  
It’s all quite obvious to you.  
  
The hours before her shift every Saturday aren’t alike to this situation. You don’t think it has much to do with the fact that this is going to be the first time you get to watch her play. Beca allows you to listen to every finished and most unfinished mixes she creates. You think this has to do with the seven other plus-one’s she brought along.  
  
And the club is filled to the core. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it this crowded. On the way in, you past a line of people longer than the block could hold. There were multiple bouncers outside telling people they couldn’t get in unless they were on the guest list, which caused a lot of complaints.  
  
Beca leading your group past the line and her ability to get every single one of you inside was impressive and kind of sexy, in a way.  
  
“They’re gonna love you.” You tell the girl next to you who’s spinning in half-circles on her barstool, talking about the Bellas as well as all the other people in the club.  
  
“Hmm?” Beca hums distracted while her eyes search your face and she seems to remember what you said. “Oh. Yeah, I hope so.” Beca speaks nervous, her hands clenched in one another and tapping on skin.  
  
“Beca.” Your hands guide her face towards you and you wait until you have her full attention. “You’ll do great.” You say honest, your hands still cupping Beca’s face as your thumbs caress her cheeks.  
  
Beca’s eyes stay locked on yours for a few seconds before she breathes out heavily and starts to nod. “Thanks.” She whispers while she seems to push past her nerves. “You think I should get up there?” Beca’s doubts show in her facial expressions. Her teeth are pressed together and her lips apart, the left corner of her mouth pulled down as if she’s just told you this horrible secret and is awaiting your response.  
  
“I think you should give these people the best New Year’s Eve of their life and do what you do best.”  
  
Beca snorts, then smiles appreciative at you. As the smile fades from her lips, you think she’s about to tell you something you’re both dying to hear and unprepared for at the same time. Her eyes stay on yours, more honest than ever before, showing a piece of her you haven’t seen yet. Then they dance over your face and she smiles again, she kisses your lips and then she’s gone.  
  
And you’re left with a more satisfying feeling than her words could ever bring you.

* * *

  
  
At exactly ten o’clock, fifteen minutes after Beca left the bar and you headed towards your friends on the dancefloor, the pre-programmed playlist gets cut halfway through a song and beats you’ve come to know too well, the indescribable flow in music that makes it impossible to match anyone but Beca to them blast through the club.  
  
Your eyes find your girlfriend up in the DJ booth.  
  
Her nerves seems to have completely left her. Her head is bobbing to her own creation, her hands move fast over the instruments in front of her and occasionally stop to push her headphones off of one ear or to put it back.  
  
But you can tell she’s not completely comfortable, though. Her focus lies undeniably and utterly at the places where her hands take her. Her eyes never leave them to look up and witness what is happening in the club, what she’s causing.  
  
You couldn’t count the amount of people on the dancefloor if you stopped time and tried to. There are more people in the limited space than you’ve ever seen in one place. And every single one of them is dancing and jumping to Beca’s tunes.  
  
You take a quick look around and make eye contact with your friends. You can see that they’re having a great time and Stacie throws her arms in the air and looks at you half insulted that you kept Beca’s skills a secret to her.  
  
You laugh and show your appreciation towards the girls before looking up to the DJ again. The moment your eyes have landed on her, she looks up, without searching or hesitation she finds you in the crowd. You yell enthusiastic and start to jump and dance even more passionate. Even from this distance, you can see Beca rolling her eyes and smiling at you.  
  
After your little moment, Beca lets herself go and she gets into her zone. Her hands, still moving fast over the controls, now also dance through the air and bounce to the beat. She jumps and sings along to certain parts. You wish she had a microphone up there, because the only thing that could make this night better would be your girlfriend’s voice echoing through this club.  
  
It’s hypnotizing to watch Beca like this.  
  
There’s not an inch of you that believes she could ever be happier doing something other than what she’s doing right now.  
  
And you love her for it. You love everything about her that leads up to this moment. Her frustration when she can’t get a piece of a song right, her anger that usually follows right after, her nerves and tapping fingers, her inability to listen to a word you say and the cute way she apologizes for that after.  
  
Everything leads up to this amazing woman who’s currently the reason for everyone’s joy in the club. You know that she’s right where she should be, maybe not forever, but definitely in this moment. This is where she belongs right now. And you’re grateful you get to be a witness to that.  
  
You’ve never been more proud of Beca.

* * *

  
  
You realize time moves fast in this club when you go to get your first drink and you see it’s already fifteen to midnight. You forget about your drink and make your way through the crowd, determined to find your girlfriend. Your feet follow the way you remember Beca once took you on. You can tell you’re getting closer to the DJ booth from the way the music echoes off the walls. The last corner you turn, you find a young man leaning over the railing, watching the crowd on the dancefloor before turning ninety degrees to face the booth where Beca’s visibly working.  
  
The man appears to be in a half-conscious state where he doesn’t notice your presence. He’s too consumed in Beca’s work, in the state his club is in at the moment.  
  
You can see the respect and pride he has for Beca in his eyes. There’s so much of it that you feel like you’re intruding something.  
  
“You trained her well.” You pierce through the silence.  
  
Kevin startles upon finding you. “Oh, hey.” He stutters as his thumb and middle finger move to the insides of his closed eyes, pinching skin there and pushing back tears that were on the verge of falling. He smiles as he uses the side of his index finger to wipe at his watery, right eye. “Yeah, she’s doing great.” He speaks as he recomposes himself, his hands moving to fix his already perfect hair and his spine straightening in an attempt to make you forget what you just witnessed.  
  
“Beca doesn’t care much about people’s opinions, but she cares about yours.” You say with a sympathetic smile and a hand that squeezes the man’s arm. “She works hard to make you proud.”  
  
The words cause a single tear to leave the man’s right eye and softly hit the ground, a sound you wouldn’t be able to hear due to the music if you weren’t looking for it, expecting it, waiting for it.  
  
“Oh man.” The man laughs as he turns his face away from you in embarrassment and once again dries his eyes. You step closer and wrap your arms around his torso, understanding his tears and what they mean to him.  
  
You’ve never had a problem with watching men cry. Back when you were dating Tom, he had no trouble showing his emotions to you. You always appreciated that about him. He wasn’t guarded with you, he didn’t put restrictions on himself that society perhaps would and he wasn’t afraid to be honest with you. If anything, you loved him more for it.  
  
A voice bursts through the speakers, informing the people in the club of the time and how the countdown will start in two minutes and fifty seconds.  
  
Kevin quickly releases you and gives you an appreciative nod.  
  
“Do you mind if I-?”  
  
“No, of course. Go ahead.” Kevin interrupts you and walks over to the door where Beca’s behind. He logs in with a four digit code and then he pulls and holds the opened door for you.  
  
You take one step inside the booth, but don’t dare to take another.  
  
Beca hasn’t noticed you coming in, which you think is due to her headphones. You watch how her hands move over the controls. Some of the buttons she twists, others she slides, others she presses and some of them she just holds.  
  
There’s a difference in every act.  
  
The buttons that twist and turn are round. Beca holds them lightly between her fingertips, waiting for the right time before flipping it in one go, but never letting it go. Sometimes she plays with it, allowing the button to roll between her fingers and you’re not sure what sound that creates, but you sure like the act.  
  
The ones that slide are small and square and Beca pushes these up and down easily and fast. The buttons she can push create an obvious sound. Her fingers move ever quick when she presses those and her arm retracts as if the buttons are on fire and she’s burning her fingertips.  
  
Altogether, the view is magnificent. Watching Beca from a distance was incredible, but this close is a whole other level of beautiful. You can see every little movement her fingers make, every button she holds and turns, every time her hand retracts from the controls, every time she smiles while she dances.  
  
With every passing second you stand there, the desire for your girlfriend grows and you know if this was any other night, you’d drag her away from those instruments and beg her to use her fingers that way to take control over your body instead.  
  
But this is an important night for Beca and you have to respect that.  
  
The voice once again announces the time through the speakers and Beca plays a simple tune while the last minute of the year goes in.  
  
You hear her sigh and you try to sneak up on her, but she ditches the headphones and her head turns to you before they’ve even come to rest around her neck.  
  
“What are you doing up here?” Beca says with a surprised, grand smile.  
  
You close the gap between you two and pull her into you by the opening of her jacket. “I came for my midnight kiss.” You flirt as your body craves more contact, which you can’t allow it.  
  
“Who says you’re gonna get it?” Beca whispers as she rests her hands on your hips and she leans back just a little to match her act.  
  
Without any further games, you kiss the girl you love and she laughs against your lips before returning the act. “You’re doing great, you know that right?” You say honestly after pulling away from the girl.  
  
“Yeah, I’m a great kisser.” Beca speaks smug. You laugh at her joke while the people in the club start screaming the last few seconds of the countdown.  
  
Beca quickly sets up something, her hands dance over the controls and one of them stays at a switch while she turns back to you, her free hand on your back and pulling you close.  
  
“Three. Two. One.” You and Beca whisper to each other and your lips meet each other in the middle. As the crowd below you starts to cheer loudly, fast beats come back up and you know Beca did that with just one hand. It reminds you she has to get back to work.  
  
“Why don’t you stay here for a little while?” Beca asks as her hands pick up the job, but her eyes stay on you.  
  
“Here? I don’t know, Becs.”  
  
“Come on, stay.”  
  
You don’t really stand a chance to a pleading Beca, especially when she’s asking you to stay with her. It’s no surprise you obey her willingly.  
  
“You want headphones?” Beca asks you while she’s busy doing whatever she’s doing with the instruments.  
  
“I can hear the music, why would I need headphones?”  
  
Beca explains something that’s called cueing, where she hears the next song in her headphones and she has to mix it to the current song. You had no idea that’s what her headphones were for. You always assumed it was to either protect her ears from the loud beats or to make sure she heard the songs better.  
  
You put the extra pair of headphones on and you immediately understand why Beca wears hers often only on one ear. You hear both songs in your headphones; the one that the club hears and the one that Beca’s preparing to mix through it, but it’s hard to decide when the prepared song should start.  
  
You play with it a little bit while dancing around the DJ booth. Headphones on, headphones off, headphones on one ear. You’d like to think you look as cool as Beca does when she has one side of her headphones trapped between her shoulder and head, but you doubt it.  
  
After understanding a little more of what Beca does, you only feel more pride towards her. You could never do what she does.  
  
For the first few hours of the new year, you dance and kiss Beca as many times as she lets you before her focus needs to be returned to the music she produces.  
  
And you think you fall in love with her a little more that night.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Nobody’s lives just fit together. Fitting together is something you work at. It’s something you make happen - because you love each other." -Rainbow Rowell.
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can never say this enough; thank you guys for the support on this dumb lil fic! I appreciate it so much!
> 
> (Reminder that I am not American, have never been to New York (unfortunately), have never been to the mentioned museum, has basically never been anywhere so it seems so don't hang me for it ;p)

New York is everything you thought it would be and more.  
  
Your family took you here for a weekend getaway when you were little, but you don’t remember anything about that time, so you label this as your first, real trip to the city.  
  
High buildings, busy streets, crowds of tourists communicating in languages you’ve never heard before, honking yellow cabs and impatient New Yorkers trying to get past the picture-taking sightseers.  
  
You love it all.  
  
Beca tells you numerous times throughout the day that you look like a typical tourist, which you accept you do. You borrowed Jessica’s digital SLR camera with three additional lenses and her waterproof black case to hold all the accessories, except for the Canon itself that you have hanging around your neck to snap a picture whenever you see something you like.  
  
Which is either your girlfriend or a sight you can’t get anywhere else than in New York.  
  
You’d say they’re fifty-fifty.  
  
You have Beca smiling. The neon signs and bright lighted billboards of Times Square. Beca pointing at an advertisement of an artist she recognizes. Rockefeller Center. Beca with her arms spread in front of the Radio City Music Hall. A few selfies of the two of you with the famous Statue of Atlas in the background, where Beca’s face changes between annoyed and uninterested to blushing when you place your lips on her cheek. A bird’s view over New York City. The crowd of people on the 102d floor of the Empire State Building. Beca pretending to fall over the railing of the classic landmark, which gave you a slight heart attack. The girl kissing your lips after to make up for it. Beca rolling her eyes when she noticed you took pictures of that.  
  
Okay, maybe it’s not entirely equally divided, but you just can’t help yourself. Beca has been relaxed and happy all day and it’s super attractive. Sure, she still complains when you get the three different city maps out from her backpack and point at whatever catches your eyes, but she smiles, takes your hand in hers and leads you towards wherever you wanted to go.  
  
Even though it’s Beca’s first time in New York, she seems to know her way around without double-checking the map.  
  
“Okay, my legs are literally going to die if we walk any further.” Beca speaks with pain in her voice as you spot Central Park in the distance.  
  
To be honest, your legs are starting to ache as well, but you know you would push through it and walk the entire time you have left here if it wasn’t for Beca. Since it could be considered dinner time, you find a cute restaurant and the food instantly cheers Beca up. Before you know it, you’re back on your feet and walking through Central Park with the girl you love.  
  
“I still can’t believe we’re in New York, Becs!”  
  
“I know. You’ve said that, like, twenty times today, Beale.” Beca chuckles as she takes a seat on a park bench.  
  
“I still can’t believe it!” You reply enthusiastic as you cuddle into your girlfriend’s side, your legs thrown over her lap and your arms around her neck. “Thanks for taking me here.” You say honestly, feeling yourself getting emotional once again over what your girlfriend has done for you.  
  
“You’ve also said that a dozen times already.” Beca says with a big smile on her face.  
  
It lights your heavy mood, but flips your stomach instead. It doesn’t seem like it will stop any time soon, so you pull Beca closer and kiss her lips. Unfortunately, it just makes your stomach roll faster. “I love you and I’m really happy.” You breathe out against the girl’s mouth.  
  
“I am too.” Beca whispers back, her eyes lingering on your face before she swallows and licks her lips. “The museum is right there, we should go.” Your girlfriend hints, but makes no attempt to get moving. Her one hand is resting on your knee in her lap and the other is behind your back, drawing circles on your winter coat.  
  
Over the course of your almost two months of dating, Beca has been more comfortable with hearing you express the feelings you have for her, hence why you’re more comfortable with telling her whenever you feel like it.  
  
She replies ever satisfying, just like right now, but never returning the words. Which isn’t something you want out of the girl. You don’t want her to say those words just because you’ve said them to her. Compared to the first time you had told her you loved her, everything that she gives you now is a huge improvement and you’ll take them all. Her knowledge of the fact that you love her. Her faked arrogance as to why _of course_ you should love her. The fact that she is happy with you.  
  
They all make you smile and pull at your heart strings.  
  
You eventually leave Central Park and find the museum on the east side of the park. Beca tells you the exhibition starts in an hour at a room specifically made for exhibitions, and it will focus on the work of one artist that’s been loaned by other museums. It’s kind of sweet Beca has done some research for this occasion and hasn’t simply bought tickets for it. You know it’s not exactly her thing, which makes the gesture even grander.  
  
Since the exhibition isn’t open yet, you and Beca decide to walk around until it does. You follow the route the most visitors seem to take and the first room you enter is the Greek and Roman Art Room. The room starts off with a hall that shows an introduction of Greek and Roman work of arts. Most of it are sculptures of humans made out of bronze material and you find it interesting to see the apparel of the carvings.  
  
“Were men larger shaped in the sixth century before Christ or have I been sleeping with the wrong guys?”  
  
You find Beca a few feet away, standing near a sculpture of a naked man, pointing at his genitals as if her words weren’t clear enough. You can’t help but laugh at Beca’s slight blush when a woman passes her and the casual, defensive shrug she gives you.  
  
“What? It’s literally reaching his knee!”  
  
“You’re such a child, Becs.”  
  
“No, these are legit questions.”  
  
The room adjacent comprises the art of the globe, showing ceremonial objects, images of Gods, sculptures and golden or ceramic objects from all over the world. You think it’s fascinating to see some of the culture from other countries of different timelines. Beca, however, seems eager to move onto the next hall, which is the Modern and Contemporary Art Room.  
  
It’s mostly paintings that take over that room and Beca stays in the front where the work is primarily modern and simple. You find yourself attracted to the abstract art and expressionism style of painting more than anything else in that room.  
  
“I like this one.” You say when you see your girlfriend has found you. Beca looks adorable with her filled bag on her back and her beanie covering the top of her head.  
  
“You do? I totally made that one.” Beca states completely serious.  
  
“You made this?”  
  
“Hmm.” Beca hums, obviously enjoying you playing along to her game. “This is what our bedroom floor looked like when I tripped over your paint cans last week.” Beca explains with a playful twinkle in her eyes. “Yeah, see, blue and red fell here and then I kicked over the yellow one in anger. So it turned out exactly this way. I call it.. Chloe Beale.” Your girlfriend speaks semi-serious as her hands dance in front of the canvas and she fakes the whole interested expressions.  
  
“Why are you naming that painting after me?”  
  
“Because it’s a mess, like you.”  
  
After you’ve had your share of a laugh, Beca asks you what you like about it and she seriously listens as you explain your interest in the piece.  
  
And you feel your heart skip a beat every time she hums in understanding to the words you say.

* * *

  
  
After a tour around every room in the museum, you and Beca make your way over to the exhibition gallery. A few single people are scattered around the room. The work belongs to an Italian, female artist and she mostly has objects to display. A man in a suit hands you a magazine which provides you information about every single piece of art in the room.  
  
The first one is quite large and the piece is hanging from the ceiling. It appears to be aluminum with different colors used to paint parts of it. You learn from the catalogue that the artwork consists out of thin strips of aluminum that are clipped and suspended to the ceiling to create the obvious forms of spiral curves.  
  
It makes you feel like you’re an intruder to the artist’s life, because the piece feels personal and you can’t help but wonder if that’s the creator’s intention.  
  
The few other projects in the room include a piece made out of knitted copper, a painting created with graphite on paper and a head made out of clay and wax. You think they’re all interesting, but none of them compare to the feeling you got upon watching the first piece.  
  
Beca has wandered the room at least seven times now, eying the objects with low interest, but never complaining about the amount of time you’ve spent in this gallery.  
  
You get overflown with emotions when you stop to think about the fact that she’s here, looking at things that don’t spark her interest, but looking nonetheless, just because it means a lot to you. It reminds you of the conversation you had with her in the beginning of your relationship where you had to remind her you like and accept her for exactly the way she is and that she didn’t have to do something just for the sake of being romantic.  
  
Now, you don’t think Beca hates art. Not the way she dislikes movies, at least.  
  
But you also understand she would never do this if it wasn’t for you.  
  
And you know Beca’s not doing this to simply please you or show an act of romance. Because then she’d have that same grumpy and sad look on her face the day she barged into your room with flowers she bought for you. A sense of discomfort and resistance would show in her entire attitude.  
  
Beca planned this on her own. She wasn’t forced by anyone, wasn’t made to feel like this was what she should do. That –you learned early on- isn’t something that works with the girl. She’s way too stubborn and independent to let anyone tell her what to do. And she definitely doesn’t like to do anything she’s not comfortable with.  
  
Which perhaps means she’s comfortable with this. She certainly looks comfortable.  
  
And you will probably never know this for sure, but you think, -you hope- that she planned this, because she doesn’t mind what you’re doing or where you are, as long as you’re together. Even more than that, you hope that brings her comfort.  
  
“You ready to leave?”  You whisper after sneaking up on the girl you get to call yours.  
  
“Yeah. Hey, is it just me or does that head look strangely similar to Sheila?”  
  
“Becs! Don’t be mean!”  
  
“I’m not being mean, I’m just saying, she has the same yellow tint of skin and her eyes are also grey and hollow, like, the resemblance is too much to be a coincidence, Beale.”  
  
“You’re the worst!” You laugh while exiting the famous museum and entering the cold, winter evening in New York City. You get your own woolen headwear out of Beca’s backpack before hooking your arm through your girlfriend’s for the sake of keeping your hands warmly tucked into your pockets.  
  
“Next time we’re taking a trip, we’re going in the summer.” Beca says annoyed when it starts to snow lightly.  
  
“Babe! You think we’ll still be together in summer.” You state happily instead of ask for confirmation. Beca’s never mentioned anything about the future and even though you know she didn’t mean it like that, it still flutters through your chest as if she did.  
  
Beca turns to look at you, her eyebrows raised and a playful smile on her face. “You don’t?” She asks with a small scoff which quickly turns into a full-force laugh.  
  
“I already know we’re never breaking up, but it’s nice to see you’re starting to realize that as well.”  
  
“Actually, my plan was to dump you _after_ summer.” Beca says matter-of-factly, but the muscles flexing in her jaw to resist a smile from forming give her away.  
  
You give her body a light push and she stumbles back to you in laughter.  
  
“I’m kidding! We’ll _obviously_ be together forever.”  
  
Beca’s sentence is filled with sarcasm and she even rolls her eyes, but there’s something that makes it feel real and honest, like the truth lies in the sharp edges of her being.

* * *

  
  
On the way back to the hotel, you spot a club on the other side of the road and your eyes fly up to Beca immediately. She doesn’t even acknowledge you. She just sighs and rolls her eyes before changing course and leading you safely over the busy streets towards where the music’s coming from.  
  
“We don’t have to.” You hear way too much enthusiasm in your voice to be sincere, but you also know Beca might not want to go to a club. Even though she’s a DJ herself, it’s been a really long day and your girlfriend has been complaining about aching legs a few times during the day. You don’t want to put her through any more pain, so you stop her right in front of the club and wait for her to lock eyes with you. “Beca.”  
  
“Chloe.” The girl states back in the same serious voice. You stare at her until she caves and starts to laugh. “It’s fine, I wanna go in. Check out the competition and all.”  
  
Maybe it’s partly true what your girlfriend is saying, but you kiss her lips out of gratitude for the action anyway.  
  
The first thing you notice is that there’s no bouncer at the entrance. People can just walk in and out if they please, which you didn’t think would be possible in this city. Upon entering, it feels more like you’ve entered a bar in Miami than an actual nightclub in New York. The bar has a beach theme with palm trees painted on the wood and the drinks people have in hand seem to fit that theme. The people inside are mostly twenty-five or over, but they look relaxed and appear to be having fun.  
  
The music is a little different from what Beca creates, but you don’t know if that means it’s a different genre of music or if it’s just a difference in style. Beca seems to have found the DJ, because her eyes are glued to the girl behind the controls and her head rocks lightly to the beat.  
  
“Is this also house music?” You yell in your girlfriend’s ear.  
  
She immediately starts shaking her head before even finding your eyes. “Techno.” You read her lips more so than actual hear her speak.  
  
“What’s the difference?” You ask while backing away from the noise to have a conversation that doesn’t involve screaming.  
  
Beca follows your lead and explains how house music has melodic and rhythmic patterns where techno music either doesn’t or they have very simple melodies. She tells you about another dissimilarity which is the vocals. Beca’s music has a lot of vocals and lyrics, whereas -as you now also notice- this music playing in the club doesn’t have any or just chopped up, short-spoken word phrases.  
  
Beca goes off into a rant about percussions and bass-lines and you kind of lose her, but it’s still fun to see her so passionately talk about music. Beca can be indifferent about so many things, but music definitely isn’t one of them. Music is perhaps the one thing she has strong and heated feelings for.  
  
“You’re really hot when you talk music.” The words slip past your lips before you realize she was in the middle of a sentence, but her smug smile and raised eyebrows inform you of that.  
  
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” Beca says with a wide smile where she shows off her perfectly, white teeth.  
  
“I have!” You yelp out, but your girlfriend doesn’t seem to believe you. “House has melodies and vocals. Techno focuses more on making you feel the music instead of making you hear it.”  
  
“Okay, maybe you did listen.” Beca replies, still with suspicion in her eyes.  
  
You proudly kiss her lips in victory and whisper you’re going to get drinks. Most of the people at the bar are simply seated and already provided a beverage, which means you have your vodka Red Bull and white wine served in plastic cups in hand before you know it.  
  
You make your way back to the place you left your girlfriend, but you hear Beca’s voice before your eyes find her.  
  
“-Okay, first of all, I create _progressive_ house.”  
  
“Just like every fourteen year old in West-Europe.”  
  
Beca’s tone of voice isn’t angry, but your first guess would be she’s arguing with someone over music genres.  
  
“Really?!”  
  
You squeeze yourself through the crowd and see your girlfriend standing there with a big smile on her face, in conversation with a woman of her size but she seems to have at least ten years on Beca.  
  
“Techno doesn’t even build or drops, it’s just six minutes of one sound. Have you ever fallen asleep during your own set, or is that just the crowd?”  
  
The older woman seems to take pleasure in Beca’s rather offensive words, a laugh escaping her mouth easily, but you feel like you have to step in either way. You bump into Beca to get her attention and hand her the drink you got for her before kissing her cheek.  
  
You smile brightly at the woman, not sure if it can cure the tension between the two, but hoping it could prevent a new level to their disagreement.  
  
“You’re the DJ, right? I’m Chloe!” You speak with more glee than you feel as you shake the pretty woman’s hand.  
  
“Oh right, this is Samira. Samira, my girlfriend Chloe.” Beca speaks suddenly uninterested as she sips the drink. “Is this Red Bull?!”  
  
You just smile and nod, understanding the surprise in the woman’s voice in your choice of drink for her.  
  
“I’d love to stay and chat some more about how wrong you are, but I have better things to do.” The woman interrupts your lingering look with her words. “Maybe I’ll come watch you play if you get a gig around here. Oh, wait, this is New York and not Utah..”  
  
“Louisiana!” Beca yells after the woman who’s walking away from you. “Just because you’re prettier and more successful and overall better than me, does not mean you’re invited to my gigs!” Beca’s hands disappear into her hair before you watch her jaw unlock and the frustration leaves her body. “She’s really intimidating.” She explains while finishing her drink, her voice embarrassed and desperate.  
  
“What was that?” You chuckle at the sight of Beca’s current state.  
  
She’s way too cute for you to think anything serious of her spoken words to the stranger, but it still stings and clings onto something in your chest. You don’t exactly understand it, but you give into your desire to kiss her and whisper in her ear that she’s yours.

* * *

  
  
Before going to bed that night in the fancy hotel, Beca asks what you thought about the trip and even though it has been amazing and you’re having the best time ever, doubts you’ve had for a long time now resurface clearer than ever before.  
  
You love art. You love watching someone else’s work. You love creating it yourself.  
  
Yet there’s a voice in your head telling you to stick with what you know. Telling you that your work could never be shown off. Saying that it’s a fun hobby, but it will never be good enough for you to pay the bills off.  
  
And you know those are just your insecurities talking and you’ve gotten used to their whispers, but sometimes they scream and they get a lot harder to ignore or convince. They become loud and irrational, not interested in your arguments, but simply caring about getting what they want.  
  
“Is it weird that the option to become a super-senior is still on the top of my list?” You ask your girlfriend while crawling under the comfortable and warm sheets of the hotel bed.  
  
Beca’s head appears from the shiny bathroom with a toothbrush stuck in her hand and her mouth mumbling something incoherent due to the object. You chuckle and watch her hold up her hand and disappear.  
  
She returns a few seconds later and jumps on the bed. “Why would you wanna be a super senior?”  
  
You wipe the remainders of toothpaste off of the corners of her mouth before allowing her to change into nightwear. “I’m just not sure what I could do with art and I love being a Bella. I could fail a class and stay with you guys for another year while I figure it out.”  
  
Beca doesn’t instantly reply. You have no idea what she’ll even say. She knows you’ve been having a hard time trying to figure out what to do with your life after college, but you’ve never informed her of the idea of not graduating this year.  
  
You watch your girlfriend head towards the bed. Her face seems thoughtful and you don’t know if that’s a good thing, but she takes your hand in hers under the sheets and tucks it before saying anything at all.  
  
“You’re not gonna figure it out by staying in school. You have to get out there and see what you love to do.”  
  
“I love being a Bella.” You reason.  
  
“So you’re gonna be a collegiate acapella singer for the rest of your life? That’s your plan?” Beca speaks frustrated, her jaw clenched and a flash of anger showing in her eyes when she looks at you.  
  
“I am sorry that we don’t all have our lives planned out ever since we were twelve, Beca!” You jerk your hand free for the need to show the girl your defenses and resistance.  
  
“I didn’t say you had to.” Beca sighs and you can feel her hand inching closer to your body, but she doesn’t make the contact. “I’m just saying that you’re insanely smart and you shouldn’t have to waste your time in college.”  
  
The words cause you to hold her hand in yours again, but you keep your eyes on the wall and away from your girlfriend. You know she means well, but sometimes she can come across as insensitive when you need a little more compassion.  
  
“You know, I’ve had it easy. There’s only one thing I’m good at that I also love doing. You’re good at, like, everything. I mean, if I could do anything in the world, I wouldn’t know what to do, either.”  
  
“I can’t do everything.” You whisper as your eyes fall on Beca’s shape. You don’t know what part is sincere and what’s just to sweet-talk you, even though you know Beca Mitchell doesn’t say anything she doesn’t believe in.  
  
“You can. You read two pages and you understand the entire book. You hear a tune and you can sing the song. You pick up a pencil and you can draw.”  
  
You lay closer to your girlfriend and hide your face in the crook of her neck while clinging with both arms to her body. “What if I go for it and find out I suck at it?”  
  
“Then I’m gonna call the fucking Times or The Post or something. Tell them I have a headliner for them. Front page news. There’s one thing Chloe Beale isn’t great at.”  
  
“Shut up.” You laugh before reaching up to kiss Beca’s lips softly and settling back into your previous position which is surprisingly comfortable.  
  
Your girlfriend’s voice returns, serious this time. “No, you’re gonna be great at whatever you choose to do, Beale. Even if art turns out to be not for you, you can do something else. That’s the big plus of being so talented.”  
  
“You think so?”  
  
“Of course. Just because you have to make a decision now, doesn’t mean that it’s forever.” Beca’s arm that’s around your body pulls you closer and you feel her lips kiss the top of your head. “Now I know we’re having a super serious conversation, but this bed is crazy comfortable and I have never been more tired in my life, so I’m probably gonna fall asleep between now and two seconds.”  
  
Beca indeed falls asleep a few minutes later and she doesn’t turn away from you, so you happily find your rest in her arms that night.  
  
And you know you shouldn’t, but you could definitely get used to that.

* * *

/

* * *

  
  
A few days after you get back from New York, Stacie mentions something about Valentine’s Day and you instantly freak out, because it’s only a couple of days away and you know it’s the kind of day your girlfriend would want to celebrate.  
  
Even after the numerous times she has told you not to plan things simply for her, that’s where your mind goes to first. Grand gestures, expensive gifts, going all out.  
  
Because you’re not good with words. You’re not good with expressing how much you appreciate her, how much you enjoy every minute you get to spend with her, how much you _love_ her.  
  
That last one has been a quite new revelation to yourself.  
  
Yet you can’t remember when you figured it out.  
  
You don’t know if it was her smile on that Tuesday afternoon when you brought her favorite sandwich for lunch. You don’t know if it were the words she whispered in your ear late at night. Or perhaps it was the way she danced to your newest track.  
  
Hell, it could’ve been either or all of the above. They all made you sick to your stomach in the greatest way possible, as if you were ready to throw up some rainbow colored butterflies or some shit.  
  
But since you have no idea how to bring up the feelings she delivers to you, how to even try to put it to words, the commercial holidays will have to be your output, no matter how much you detest the cliché part of it.  
  
You drag Stacie with you to the mall a week prior to February fourteenth where your tall friend makes you look at jewelry and purses for an hour and a half before laughing at you and telling you Chloe doesn’t need a silver necklace from hundreds of dollars.  
  
“You’re no help at all, do you know that?” You complain while exiting the store with your friend who’s still laughing immensely at your actions.  
  
“Oh Beca, how did you manage yourself those eighteen years without me?” Stacie speaks while pulling your body shortly closer to her.  
  
“Fine. You’re my fucking Valentine-guru or whatever you wanna call it. Now are you gonna help me? What are you getting Coach? Is it good? Can I steal the idea?”  
  
Stacie pulls you to a stop, looks at you as if you’ve gone insane and laughs when you give her an angry glare. “You’re funny when you’re nervous. Beca, it’s just Valentine’s Day. Buy some roses and make dinner reservations. It’s not rocket science.”  
  
“It probably is to you.” You mumble at the girl who currently upholds a perfect score for anything science related. “But I can’t do that. I tried flowers last time and it didn’t go so well. And we have dinner so often, it’s barely anything special now.”  
  
Stacie looks at you as if you’ve just given her the nuclear codes or something that make her eyes light up the way they do. “You need something special? I can do special.”

* * *

  
  
February 14 th arrives faster than you would have liked. You and Chloe spend a few more minutes in bed than normally, but eventually you start the day.  
  
“Do you know what day it is, Beca?”  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
“I think you do know.”  
  
“I think it’s Tuesday.” You reply disgustingly uninterested as you continue to get dressed. But your act of cluelessness doesn’t uphold, because your girlfriend exits the closet with a tiny, wrapped-up box in hand and a bright smile on her face. “What’s this?” You say as she puts the gift in your hands and you can’t bring yourself to simply open it to get your answer.  
  
“Just a little something. Because it’s _Tuesday_.” Chloe speaks joyfully and knowing, fully aware your oblivion was faked.  
  
“I didn’t get you anything.” The honest words physically cause you pain, but the ache doesn’t sting anyone else in the room.  
  
“You don’t have to, Becs. Now, come on. Open it!” Chloe cheers enthusiastic and excited while clapping her hands.  
  
You roll your eyes first before obeying the girl’s order. After the wrapping is gone, it reveals a name on top of the blue, little box and you recognize it as your local jeweler. “This better not be a promise ring, Beale.” You joke, even though the box isn’t rightfully shaped to contain a ring. It’s flatter and would be good to hold a necklace of some sort.  
  
But upon separating the top from the bottom, it shows you were wrong. The box contains a set of silver ear piercings, two pieces for each ear.  
  
“Do you like them?”  
  
Even though you like your usual black spikes, and you probably would have never gotten these for yourself, you do.  
  
“You got these for me because it’s Tuesday?” You say disbelieving as you step closer to Chloe, your arms pulling her body against you and rest around her lower back. The girl hums before her hands make contact with the sides of your face. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll get me next Tuesday.” You chuckle before softly placing your lips on hers in gratitude.  
  
“You’ll have to wait another year for that, Beca Mitchell.” Your girlfriend whispers with a devious grin before disappearing back into the tiny walk-in closet.

* * *

  
  
During the first class of that day, you feel kind of bad for making your girlfriend believe you didn’t get her anything for Valentine’s Day, although it’s the truth and you don’t necessarily have a wrapped present, you do have something planned that she has no idea about.  
  
Halfway through English Lit, Stacie texts you saying that Aubrey just executed her part in the surprise and that everything is moving smoothly.  
  
Stacie brought a lot of _special_ ideas to the table, just as she promised. From heart shaped fireworks to written love confessions on signs on the side of the road that she’d have to catch to get the sentences, the plans were uncommon to say the least.  
  
You had to intervene into a lot of Stacie’s crazy ideas, including intercepting a few phone calls to city hall.  
  
This plan had been mostly your idea, for the sake of reasoning with the girl’s extremeness, and Stacie was quick to accept the offer, which raised some suspicion from your end, but it was already too late to go back.  
  
“That’s so romantic! Your own version of dinner and a movie!” Stacie had yelped out initially. “Okay, leave everything to me.” She continued after, suddenly serious and motivated.  
  
And she had indeed made a solid plan. One where the help from every Bella would be crucial.  
  
Stacie had proposed to ask Aubrey for her compliance, but you insisted it should be you. And Coach didn’t make it easy on you, but after a frustrated, polite version of asking for her help, she accepted. It felt, perhaps for the first time, as if things could ever be okay between the two of you. Even though you two still face the same and everlasting struggles within the acapella group, they seem to stay there and no longer cloud the world outside of the Bellas.  
  
After getting Aubrey to help keep Chloe out of the room after her classes, the rest will be a piece of cake. As soon as class is finished, Amy and Cynthia-Rose will help you turn your dorm room into the right setting, Ashley and Lilly will cook their specialties, Jessica is in charge of choosing documentaries and Stacie, completely uninstructed, has made herself the person in charge of the romantic adjustments.  
  
It is really no surprise that while you and the four active helpers in the room are getting everything set, Stacie barges into the room with a bag full of rose petals and way too many candles that she starts scattering around the room.  
  
“Dude, is this really necessary?” You ask even though you already know the answer to it.  
  
Stacie ignores you and continues to decorate while skipping through the room. “Amy, Cynth, how’s the fort coming along?”  
  
“Well-“ Amy speaks out of breath as she manages to get out of the so-called fort. It’s really just two mattresses on the floor with blankets forming the roof of it. “-The outside isn’t very stable. Just like Beca and Chloe’s relationship.” The girl ends in a whisper.  “But the inside is soft and comfortable, just like the two vaginas.” Amy explains. “The two vaginas being Beca and Chloe’s because-“  
  
“We get it!” You yelp out to get the girl to stop talking about your vagina. “We get it, Amy. Thank you.”  
  
The girls share a laugh before Stacie continues again rather seriously. “Okay, how’s dinner coming along? Chlo will be here within ten minutes, we need to be ready.”  
  
“We’re just waiting on Lilly’s side dish.” Ashley replies.  
  
“It’s a mixture of different dead and alive insects.” Lilly mumbles incoherent.  
  
“I think she’s made fresh vegetables.” Ashley speaks unimpressed, but then again, she’s not the one who has to eat it.  
  
“Where’s Jessica? She’s supposed to-”  
  
As if she’s summoned, Jessica burst through the door with what appears to be a beamer. Before you can even get any questions out, Stacie is installing the damn thing and within like thirty seconds, she seems to have succeeded, because next thing you know, your computer’s background shows itself on your dorm room wall.  
  
“How the-“  
  
“How did I do that within the minute or how did I hack into your laptop?”  
  
“Both.” You decide which makes Stacie chuckle as she kisses the top of your head.  
  
“You’re welcome, eyeline-monster. Now let’s go everyone, out, out, out, out!”

* * *

  
  
Exactly ten minutes after the girls have left your room and five since Stacie’s text that Chloe will be there shortly, you’re positioned in the poorly, self-made fort with two hot plates of food and Jessica’s recommended movie paused on your bedroom wall.  
  
You managed to get through the day without having doubts about this, but now that you’re alone and settled onto a sea of pink pillows, -courtesy of Amy- with lit candles and bright colored petals all around, you can’t help but feel a little stupid.  
  
The idea might have been yours in its core, but Stacie turned it into something real and all the other girls helped you with making this possible.  
  
There is not one thing that you did on your own.  
  
Just when you’re starting to think about tearing everything down and making a run for the nearest jewelry store to return the luxurious favor, Chloe approaches your room.  
  
You can hear her before anything else.  
  
You hear her humming while opening the door. You hear the shocked inhale of air as she probably eyed the room. You hear the smile on her face as she yells out your name.  
  
“What is all this!” The girl practically screams as she peeks behind the blankets that are tied together and hanging from the roof.  
  
“It’s Tuesday.” You try to act casual, but you can feel your lips tucking and your cheeks blushing.  
  
Chloe crawls inside excitedly and places her lips on whatever skin she can find while yelping out her gratitude.  
  
“It’s not all me, though.” You laugh as she retracts from you.  You hand your girlfriend one of the plates and she settles down next to you before giving you her attention again. “John told me you guys used to make forts made out of blankets whenever your parents weren’t home. He said whenever he thinks back to the days when you were growing up together, he’d remember the giant smile on your face when the blankets collapsed and you could build it all over.”  
  
Chloe’s face softens and you know she’s thinking back at her childhood, too. Then she blinks twice, gets ahold of your shirt and tucks you forward until she can kiss you properly this time.  
  
“Then I got the girls to help me out here. Aubrey kept you busy while everyone pitched in. As you can guess, Stacie’s to blame for all of this.” You chuckle while throwing a few rose petals at your girlfriend who squeaks in return. “I’m pretty sure Jessica stole this beamer from the tech kids across campus. And Ashley and Lilly made dinner.”  
  
“You’re gonna eat something that Lilly made?” Chloe giggles childishly.  
  
“No, I’m gonna watch _you_ eat something that Lilly made and if you’re still alive in ten minutes, then I’ll have some as well.”  
  
Chloe bravely takes a spoonful to her mouth and winks at you as she chews and swallows the food. “It’s actually really good.” She says surprised and urges you to try as well.  
  
It sure smells good and all you can think of while the food travels over your taste buds is how Ashley beat you yet in another thing.  
  
You start the documentary during dinner, but you don’t see much of it. Chloe’s face looks differently beautiful in the dark room and dimmed candle light. The girl spends a lot of the evening with at least one arm -but most of the time two- around your body, her lips are unable to go more than five minutes without craving yours and you know this movie is supposed to be great, but it doesn’t stand a chance against the real masterpiece in the room.

* * *

  
  
The following weeks are centered on the semi-finals. Aubrey pushes the group to get the best out of them, but you’re starting to wonder if even that will be enough.  
  
Even though you think that Aubrey and you are getting along better outside the practices, you don’t let that stop you from speaking your mind or fearing it will hurt your already thin bond.  
  
But you don’t start fights anymore.  
  
You’ll try to get her to realize things. You’ll try to get through to her, but when you know she’s not interested in your opinion and she’s not going to change things, you just leave it be.  
  
You know that’s what Chloe wants. And none of the other Bellas have ever had your back during typical arguments between you and Coach, so perhaps shutting up will be a good thing.  
  
It’s Friday morning and you’re in a smelly bus with Aubrey yelling at you when you keep telling yourself just that.  
  
_Shutting up is a good thing.  
_  
“-And yes, Beca, I’m talking to you. I don’t care if they were a gift, you need to take them off. We can’t afford any mishaps.”  
  
“I’m not taking off my piercings.” You mumble tiredly while placing the headphones on your head and staring out through the tainted windows of the vehicle.  
  
The sun isn’t even up yet and somehow you’re awake, because it’s the day of the semi-finals. You just hope to get it over with quickly so you can start the first day of spring break.  
  
You’re not hoping your team will lose, but you’re a realist and you know the chances are high that you will.  
  
_Hell, last time you nearly lost from a bunch of people who had an act revolve around socks.  
_  
And nothing has changed since then, so you don’t think you can beat real contestants.  
  
You don’t want to say you’re looking forward to lose, because you really hate to lose and you know this group has the potential to win, but not with Aubrey in charge. A part of you has already accepted that this is your final performance and another part wants to fight for it.  
  
Even though you love all of the girls in your acapella club, you can’t say you hate the future perspective of sleeping in every morning and not having to fight Aubrey’s old fashioned tactics anymore.  
  
Upon your arrival, the only other group you recognize is Jesse’s and they are great as they always are. The following group is called The Footnotes and they smoothly perform their version of the famous Jackson Five song.  
  
While watching them rock out, your usual competitiveness comes back up and you realize that, in order to win, you have to do better than the two teams you just witnessed.  
  
“Two minutes, Bellas.” Benji speaks apologetic, as if he, too, has lost faith in your team.  
  
“Aca-huddle!” Aubrey screams and even though you have no idea why the fuck that term is presented to you the way she did, the group obeys, so you join them. “The top two teams go to the finals. We just have to beat **_one_** of them.” Aubrey speaks as if they aren’t both great and you actually have a chance.  
  
Aubrey must feel your mental resistance, because next she turns to you and makes it clear the performance will go exactly the way it was rehearsed. You don’t nod or give her any other warnings about what you’re planning to do. Mainly because you haven’t figured out yet which voice in your head to obey.  
  
“Hands in!”  
  
The applause for The Footnotes dies out and Aubrey’s the first to step out of the circle that was made. Chloe follows her on stage with a grand smile that forever lifts your mood. You take a deep breath and take your assigned spot on the stage. Aubrey blows on the pitch pipe and counts, to which the group moves and sings on cue.  
  
You hate how natural and automatic these moves come to you. You hate how every little thing is programmed or forcefully instructed into your body.  
  
You’re not even thirty seconds in and you already see how the man who’s in control of lights and sounds uninterestedly checks his phone. The people in the first few rows are watching you perform, but they too seem bored and you can’t blame them. Your eyes go to the judges who seem to have the same low energy as the audience.  
  
If that was all, then maybe you wouldn’t have done what you did.  
  
If it was just boredom and quiet dissatisfaction, you think you would have gone down silently with your group.  
  
But it was that guy.  
  
That stupid front man of the group before you. Timothy. The Footnotes. Him -and shortly after the rest of his team- swaying to your music and obviously mocking it.  
  
That stupid look on his face was just waiting to get smacked off and you’d gladly do the honors.  
  
Chloe’s look she threw your way was a mixture of surprised and intrigued, but you don’t know if that’s because you started singing her _lady jam_ or if she actually likes what you’re doing.  
  
But Aubrey’s look nearing the end of the performance told you specifically what she wanted you to know.  
  
There was absolutely no doubt about that.  
  
“That was awesome, Becs!” Chloe bumps into you while exiting the stage and Amy throws you a large smile. The girls seem enthusiastic and you think your group sounded great. You spotted the judges leaning forward and showing overall more interest from the moment you pitched Bulletproof through the original song.  
  
You don’t know if it was enough to win, but it was awesome nonetheless. Like one of your tracks coming to life. A real life mash-up. No edits, no second drafts. Just a final edition. Rough on the edges, perhaps. But a great first track.  
  
“What the hell, Beca?! Were you _trying_ to screw us up?”  
  
The words bring your feet back to earth and you feel dizzy and desperate for a moment more of that heavenly feeling.  
  
“Newsflash. This isn’t the Beca Show!”  
  
You can tell Aubrey’s actually upset and you noticed she was thrown off by your act, so you try to communicate with her on a normal level, but of course Aubrey can’t do that.  
  
“It’s not your job to decide what we do and when we do it. Why don’t you ask the rest of the group how they felt about your little improvisation?”  
  
Your eyes follow Stacie first. She’s right behind Aubrey and she drops her head weakly, avoiding eye contact with you out of fear of what you’ll find there. You can’t really blame her. She can only lose in this battle and she’s not the one whose support you’re craving.  
  
Chloe’s eyes snap from your feet to the air next to you and eventually to Amy, desperately and timid.  
  
“It was cool.” Amy fills the emptiness with a few sympathetic words. “But it did take us a little bit by surprise.”  
  
“Yeah, a lot by surprise.”  
  
Honestly, the words don’t hit you anymore. Aubrey or anyone else could call you every word from A to Z, but the look on your girlfriend’s face and her sudden ability to keep her silence says enough and that hurts more than anything that Coach has ever said to you.  
  
The pain quickly transitions into anger, like it has done ever since you were little. You can pretty much feel your defenses elevating around you, tension building behind your ribcage and waiting for your mouth to open so it can be set free.  
  
“I told you she wasn’t a Bella.”  
  
“Aubrey, don’t”  
  
Chloe’s words sound desperately small, something that only angers you more. Everything about it angers you. How she’s pleading her best friend not to kick you out. The little shake of her head. The fact that she suddenly found her voice again and she’s able to speak again, just not to you.  
  
It makes you feel alone again.  
  
It makes you feel like the outsider again. Everyone is against you. There’s no one in your corner. And that might hurt, but there’s a lot more in this moment that you realize hurts.  
  
“No, that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend you’re allowed to have a say in the group, right? It's not like you're co-captain.” You say with spite and every intention to do damage. “What happened to _‘that was awesome’_ , Chloe? You can’t have an opinion unless it’s the same as your best friend’s?”  
  
“You’re just angry she didn’t side with you.” Aubrey speaks and it causes the boiling anger to reach its high.  
  
“This isn’t about picking sides!” You spit back before moving your focus back to your girlfriend. “If you actually agreed with her, that would be fucking fine, but you don’t. I know you. And I know this is personal and I can’t force you to stand up for yourself, but goddamn it, Chlo. I can’t do this anymore.” You decide with a shake of your head.  
  
And in this moment, you realize you really can’t do it anymore.  
  
“I fucking _care_ about you and I fucking _love_ you, but I can’t sit on the sideline and watch the way she treats you any longer.”  
  
“Beca.” Chloe’s face is suddenly lighting up and your name sounds like a plea in her mouth, but she’s still standing next to her best friend and it feels like she has picked her side after all.  
  
“No, forget it. If this is what I get for trying..”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "This is an apology letter to the both of us for how long it took me to let things go." -Buddy Wakefield
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I can't believe I had to re-read 240k+ words of my own written crap just to write this chapter. (I wanted to do a chapter like this for a long time and always had this moment after the semi-finals fight in mind, but wasn't sure it would be interesting enough, so I did my best haha) ;D
> 
> So yes, this chapter is from Aubrey's POV and it runs over the length of the entire story basically. It contains moments between her and Beca, Chloe and Stacie primarily. I'd recommend you'd read this chapter because it kinda humanizes Aubrey and stuff, but if you don't wanna read all that, I'd say just read the end, because it picks up where last chapter left off!
> 
> Have fun!

You didn’t expect Beca Mitchell.  
  
Things were looking up and going smooth. You were finally captain of the Bellas after three years of having to take orders, it was finally you calling the shots, together with your best friend Chloe Beale.  
  
You were getting straight A’s for almost every class in school. Your best friend just got out of an unhealthy relationship and the two of you were closer than ever. The group of girls you put together, a little alternative and weird, had been progressing little by little and you had faith your senior year would hold no surprises.  
  
You would guide the Bellas to victory and you would graduate.  
  
But there were a few surprises along the way..

* * *

  
  
The first time you met the out-of-the-ordinary girl with spiked ears and the dark look, it set the tone for your entire relationship. The first words she had said to you were threats and primarily spoken in curse words. But that can’t intimidate you. You have at least 3 inches on the girl and though she might be able to take you on physically, you are the captain of the Barden Bellas, which instantly makes you better than Chloe’s odd, new roommate.  
  
Ever since that first occasion you've had with her, you knew she was going to cause problems. But you never thought those issues could reach your all female group of acapella singers.  
  
When Chloe walks into Bellas practice with the alt-girl right behind her, you would label that moment as the beginning of the end. Despite your denial of your best friend’s offer for Beca to join the Bellas, she gets the group to hear her sing and you can’t really do anything else but accept her after that, because she can sing quite alright.  
  
You never thought she’d stay, though.  
  
You didn't like having her around, but she certainly looked like she’d want to be anywhere else as well. Besides your usual tries to get Chloe to kick her out, you waited for her to make the decision. Every morning, you wondered if today would be the day she’d stop showing up.  
  
But she came. Late, most times. But she showed up. Every single time. You hated it.  
  
The first time you realized something was going on between Chloe and Beca was when she told you she invited Beca to the aca-ignition night on campus, which is a party for acapella singers on campus only! Technically, yes, Beca was an acapella singer in your group, but there was a shimmer in your best friend’s eye that told you that wasn’t the real reason she invited her.  
  
“What’s with the long face, cutie?”  
  
No one had ever called you that until Stacie did that afternoon.  
  
“You know that I was only kidding, right? I don’t need two hours to get ready. An hour and a half will do just fine. Hey, you wanna grab dinner before practice? We need a full stomach to soak in all the alcohol we'll be drinking tonight.”  
  
“No time, Stacie. I have to finish my essay on energy production.” You had said while checking the time, knowing you were a little behind on your schedule and you didn’t like it one bit.  
  
“Cool, I can help you with that.” Stacie had replied nonchalant and cheerful.  
  
“Stacie-“ You had stopped yourself, because you didn’t like the demeaning way her name came out of your mouth. “-You’re a freshman and-“  
  
“And you’re the hottest senior. I’ll get us some pizza. You like pizza?” Her question was left unanswered because she was out of sight before you could reply.  
  
Stacie entered your room without a warning half an hour later, two pizza boxes resting on her lower arm as she winked and smiled at you.  
  
You learned a lot that day about Stacie. She helped you with your class and talked about how her mother’s an engineer and she taught her a lot growing up. It’s no secret Stacie’s insanely beautiful and quite flirtatious with everyone she meets, but now you know she’s also really smart and passionate. You ask her questions about her family and she tells stories that make you laugh while you’re trying to finish the food.  
  
An alarm that afternoon had pulled the fun to a stop and urged you to get to the gym.  
  
“You really are a control freak, aren’t you?” Stacie had asked on the way to practice.  
  
“And you’re really not.” You had said smug, knowing what a free spirit the girl was.  
  
“I know. How great would we be together?” A wink and silly giggle after the words flipped your stomach in a way no one ever could.  
  
Stacie was definitely surprise number two you weren’t at all prepared for.  
  
That night was the first time you shared a kiss. You couldn’t stay away from her during the aca-ignition party and it seemed neither could she. You danced to every song together and it became increasingly more hands-on as time went by. A few hours into the night, her butt was pretty much glued to your front and you couldn’t make yourself think straight anymore. With a tuck of the girl’s hair and a surprised gulp, you swallowed her mild astonishment and sucked on her lips until your lungs demanded air.  
  
The morning after, when you realized you had in fact kissed a woman for the first time and it wasn’t just a playful peck on the lips, you started panicking. You spent the morning convincing yourself you were drunk, -even though you had three drinks that entire night- and that must be the reason you did what you did.  
  
You were prepared to tell Stacie that if she texted you or said anything during the Sunday morning you spent studying together, but she didn’t . She chatted away about numerous topics, but your heated kiss wasn’t one of them.  
  
You felt a slight sting.  
  
It felt like it wasn’t a big deal to Stacie. As if she makes out like that with just anyone. Perhaps she does. Perhaps what happened between the two of you was indeed due to the alcohol and dancing. Of course it wasn’t anything serious.  
  
_But then why couldn’t you stop thinking about her lips on yours?  
_

* * *

  
  
Chloe had come to you in tears one afternoon and your mind -and its blame- immediately went to Beca. You knew she caused the pain visible in your best friend’s eyes and it hurt you, too. Chloe and you go way back. You can’t even remember how old you were when you started becoming friends, that’s how young you were. And you love her. Chloe’s your one and only best friend. You couldn’t picture your life without her. You’d do anything for her, even if those things are huge mistakes, you’d do anything to protect her from bad people.  
  
She tells you about some sort of deal she made with Beca. Her membership within the Bellas in exchange for sex. You don’t quite understand the terms. You don’t know who benefits from which end of the deal, but you don’t really want to be the one who asks that question.  
  
You let your best friend get it all out while you wonder if she’s in love with Beca. You don’t know if that would change anything. If you would forgive Beca for hurting your friend if there were feelings involved. You don’t think it would.  
  
Later that day, you technically had kicked Beca out of the Bellas, but Chloe stepped in and took over. You followed their conversation from a distance, unable to hear the spoken words, but picking up on every, little change in body language.  
  
You convinced yourself if you saw even one bad sign, you’d go over there, but Chloe seemed to relax and even Beca lost some of her hard edges.  
  
Suddenly, you felt like you were intruding a moment, but you didn’t look away, forever having Chloe’s back and watching over her.

* * *

  
  
No matter how often you tried to educate Beca on how things go in the group, she made sure to put up a fight on every little thing. She didn’t seem to understand how it worked. The songs were chosen for a reason, as well as the routine and the Bellas’ outfits. You can’t just change things because someone doesn’t like it.  
  
There are rules and a path that needs to be followed, but it seemed you had to remind Beca of that on a daily base.  
  
“You shouldn’t let her get to you so much.” Stacie had said on a Saturday evening where she was hanging around your dorm room.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Beca. I can see it in your face. This muscle has been working overtime.” She spoke while poking your forehead with her finger.  
  
That wasn’t the first time since the kiss that she had touched you, but it’s the first time you felt electricity sparking through your body again.  
  
“She’s only been with us for a few weeks and she thinks she knows better than me. **_I_** have been a Bella for over three years.” You said to deflect from the things she made you feel.  
  
Stacie had taken your hand and kissed it before holding it properly in hers. She didn’t say anything, but she listened and that was enough.  
  
You had gone out that evening. Stacie told you she texted all the girls, but somehow you spent the first few hours in that bar by yourselves. They showed up later and Jessica told you that they didn’t get a text until ten minutes before. As if she was summoned, Stacie walked by you and winked, as if claiming guilt to the accusation and taking pride in it.  
  
_Which is so Stacie.  
_  
You spent a solid amount of time that night laying in Stacie’s arms. You had thought it was weird for you to be comfortable that way with your friends all around, but no one questioned it or even sent a second glance your way. You wondered if you and Stacie combined with the proximity of alcohol, even when it doesn’t necessarily enter your bodies, made things easier to justify. Not so much to the girl or your friends, but yourself.  
  
The days following, you spent a lot of time thinking about Stacie and the feelings that you had started to develop for her. Based on a friendship and a solid foundation of trust, the issue wasn’t if you liked her. The issue was a completely irrational one where it didn’t fit your life-plan.  
  
You had everything dotted out and falling in love with a girl and being in a lesbian relationship wasn’t part of that.  
  
You went into a state of denial and you mentally prepared dozen of speeches you’d hold if Stacie brought it up, but she never did.

* * *

  
  
“Have you always known you liked girls?”  
  
The words had left your mouth in frustration one evening. Frustrated at yourself more than anyone else. Frustrated you couldn’t stop thinking about Stacie; kissing her, feeling every inch of her skin, finding out if she indeed was as experienced as she came across.  
  
You wanted to talk. You wanted an answer as to why she had never brought up your kiss. Why she had never made a move after that. Why she had pretended nothing happened when your stomach was spinning constantly when you were around her.  
  
But you weren’t brave enough to simply ask those questions, because they’d have required some level of acceptance from your own side and you didn’t have any.  
  
“Why are you asking?” She had said after a brief explanation that she had indeed always known.  
  
You buried your head in some books and refused yourself eye-contact, knowing the heat you felt in your face would show.  
  
“Is this about our kiss?”  
  
The question had left you breathless and shocked, which caused you to stay frozen with your mouth hanging open in disbelief.  
  
Stacie had laughed before going back to studying. “My bad. I thought you were ready to discuss it.”  
  
“I didn’t know there was anything to discuss.” You had mumbled, remembering all the speeches you had once prepared if Stacie were to drop the topic on you like a bombshell.  
  
The girl had kept her silence and went back to her adorable humming while taking notes, obviously letting the conversation die, but you weren’t sure you wanted it to.  
  
“But if there was anything to discuss..” You had continued, shyly and with a heart that was beating twice its normal pace.  
  
Stacie had turned away from her books to face you. “Then I’d say that I have been thinking about kissing you again every day since it happened.”  
  
The words had left the girl’s mouth easily and brave, not afraid of how you’d respond or how different your words would be from hers.  
  
But before you were able to push her away from you, Stacie had risen to her feet and extended both her hands for you to take.  
  
“Let’s go.”  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“You’ll see when we get there.”  
  
“I have to finish this paper, Stace.”  
  
Despite your opposition to the girl’s offer, you had rested your hands in hers and followed her into the late hours of the remaining Monday. She ended up taking you just off campus where she hopped a fence and didn’t wait for you to do the same. With a lot of complaints, you ended up accompanying the girl in her journey that eventually led you seated on the roof of a high school where Stacie talked about groups of stars that formed different patterns and all their names.  
  
Bodies shifted and words were exchanged for the silence of the night.  
  
“I know you like to plan and schedule everything.” Stacie had broken the comfortable peace and turned on her side to look at you. “But you can’t organize your whole life like that. Sometimes you kiss a girl at a party. Sometimes, you’ll find yourself on top of a building stargazing on a Monday night when you should be finishing a paper. And sometimes we fall in love with people we didn’t expect to.”  
  
That night changed everything.  
  
You came to terms with a lot of changes within yourself and what you and Stacie started to build after those hours on the roof. But it wasn’t the end of certain doubts. After all, it has never been easy for you to discard your plans.

* * *

  
  
Part of you wished you could talk to Chloe about your personal struggles and your newfound relationship with Stacie, but your best friend was always caught up in some drama with Beca.  
  
There was her scheme to go out with other people to put her feelings for Beca to a halt. You could have said, and you had told her, that it wasn’t going to work. Going on a date with some girl you have zero interest in while continuing to have sex with your roommate whom you’re secretly in love with sounded like the worst plan ever.  
  
But Chloe followed through.  
  
In the midst of all, she had invited Beca to spent Thanksgiving with her family and you were just waiting for all of it to blow up.  
  
You didn’t think there’d be a good outcome. Possibly the best thing you could see coming out of that situation was Beca ending their deal, leaving the Bellas and your best friend once and for all.  
  
Unfortunately, the opposite of that happened.  
  
You kind of knew when your best friend called you during Thanksgiving break and told you Beca got along with her family instead of messing everything up like she always does. And when you noticed heavy breathing and the sound of wet lips coming together from the other end of the call, you knew Beca wasn’t going to exit your life any time soon.  
  
“What did the eyeline-monster do this time?” Stacie had asked without even looking up to you after you reentered the cabin you shared with her.  
  
 “She’s stealing Chloe away from me!” You had said dramatic and semi-vengeful.  
  
“That’s usually what happens when your best friend gets into a relationship. You’ll have her back in a month or two when the honeymoon phase is over.”  
  
“They’re not dating!” You had said with disgust in your voice. “We are.” You had said matter-of-factly while letting yourself fall down on the couch next to your girlfriend.  
  
“Yes, we are.” Stacie had said proud before kissing you passionately until the idea of anyone else had completely left your mind.  
  
It was Stacie’s idea to go away together over the break and you were hesitant at first. You always go to your family on Thanksgiving and it’s a tradition you weren’t happy to break, but Stacie was once again pulling you out of your comfort zone and planned this amazing trip.  
  
Not only is this the most beautiful and amazing cabin you have ever seen, the park is incredible and it brought you instant peace to be here.  
  
It had really done you good to be away from everything you knew and go somewhere unfamiliar with your girlfriend. The hiking, swimming and cycling had de-stressed your entire body and cleared your mind.  
  
It was during that time that you fully accepted the changes you had made in your life regarding your love life and perhaps even more than that.  
  
“I really love it here.” You had told Stacie on your final day of the trip while she was packing. The girl had clothes lying around in every room while you kept everything bagged and in one place. It was only because this place had a positive effect on you that it didn’t trigger an instant fight. But it is good to know that you’re nowhere near ready to live together with that mess of a girl.  
  
“Me too, babe. Have you seen my red bra? I’m pretty sure you threw it around the room on our first night here.”  
  
“You know Stacie, I always thought I’d become an accountant for a major company after college, but now I’m reconsidering.”  
  
“An accountant, really?”  
  
“It’s the perfect job for perfectionists.” You had reasoned, even though you had understood the initial disbelief.  
  
“You’re more than just a perfectionist, babe, but go on. You wanna become an accountant who works in the mountains?” Stacie had spoken while running around the living room area of the cabin bare-chested and in search for her lost bra.  
  
“Maybe.” You had mumbled while contemplating what job you could fulfill to the best of your abilities while being in a place like this.  
  
You have always been stressed and uptight. It probably started at elementary school where you had to prove you were better than everyone else. That spirit moved on to high school and eventually college. You always made sure you got the best out of yourself and in order to do that, a lot of stress was released.  
  
But you don’t wanna be like that for the rest of your life.  
  
And now that you’ve found a place where you instantly relax and can breathe without any pressure on you, you think you like this person more than the one you are back at home.

* * *

  
  
The first day after the Thanksgiving break, Chloe brought you the kind of news you never wanted to hear.  
  
Your worst nightmare had become reality.  
  
Beca and Chloe had officially become a couple.  
  
Stacie told you later that day that you were overreacting, but you had always known that girl was going to hurt your best friend and now there’s little you can do about it.  
  
Despite your best friend’s new relationship status, she continues your daily, morning jogs and coffee breaks. You feel a bit better after realizing Chloe’s not going to leave you.  
  
Beca, however, was still a problem.  
  
The girl still picked fights during Bellas practices and she never stopped giving her unwanted opinion about the routines. But she caved a bit quicker when you told her off. You think that was because of Chloe.  
  
Up until December 25 th, you can’t say you had any positive feelings towards the tiny and rebellious Bella.  
  
But the look on your best friend’s face when she saw what Beca got her for Christmas started to change that. You realized Beca perhaps had a softer side and her intentions you had questioned from the start were maybe not that bad after all.  
  
You started to realize that Beca is perhaps just an annoying, irritating and grumpy know-it-all that had fallen in love with your best friend without any reason to destroy her or your acapella group.  
  
The activities you held during that break were a lot less tensed because of Beca and you getting a little better along. You still insulted her and she still dodged them with sarcasm, but you were doing better.  
  
And while some things were going smooth during that vacation, other things weren’t.  
  
You had always known Stacie to be flirtatious and seductive. You knew she was a tease and you entered a relationship with the girl despite that fact. But that didn’t mean you were okay with everything she did.  
  
It started the very week you got together. It was the night of the riff-off and Stacie was looking great and sexy when she made her way to the center and started dancing to a song about sex. It wasn’t her moves that bothered you, or the fact that Cynthia-Rose was a little too close to her for your liking.  
  
What bothered you was the Treble guy that intercepted your team. His eyes moved over too many parts of your girlfriend to let slip, but perhaps the real issue for you was that Stacie let it happen. You had to drag her away from the spot and she couldn’t admit she was in the wrong.  
  
“What are you doing!”  
  
“He’s undressing you with his eyes, Stacie!”  
  
“And I can handle that tiny man. I’ll have his balls cut off before he can even think about making a move.”  
  
The girl sounded sure of herself as she jumped back to the center and interfered with the Treblemakers’ sound. You were proud of her for using her talent to destroy the guys, but it still gave you this itching feeling.  
  
A few other occasions during the time you had been together led to a lot of jealousy from your side. But all of those combined couldn’t stand for the fight you had with the girl in the strip club nearing the end of December.  
  
“You always do these things, Stace. You know it bothers me!”  
  
“I’m just dancing, baby.” Stacie had said with her arms around your neck in an attempt to comfort you, but the physical contact only made it worse.  
  
“On stage. With two barely dressed women.”  
  
“Dancing with them, yes. I wasn’t fucking them.”  
  
“Well, you might as well have.”  
  
“Don’t be like that, babe. You know you’re the only one for me.”  
  
And Stacie had been right, because you did know that. She might be a tease, but she doesn’t flirt with people for the reason other people might. She doesn’t have intentions. It’s just the way Stacie is.  
  
And since you became official, Stacie had told you she had been trying more.  
  
You would love to change certain things about her, but Stacie told you many times before that she’s uncontrollable. Though she had said she’d been struggling herself. This relationship might be new for you because of the gender of your partner, it’s new for Stacie because she can’t act like she’s single anymore. Which you understood would be hard for a free spirit like that girl.  
  
But you were figuring things out.  
  
“You’re a real control freak, aren’t you?” Stacie had spoken with a playful smirk on her face.  
  
“And you really aren’t.” You had said almost scolding while walking back to the table your friends occupied in the gentlemen’s club.  
  
“I know. How great are we together?”

* * *

  
  
Beca and Stacie were both surprises you didn’t see coming. One a better one than the other. But both unexpected. And though there have been bumps along each road you shared with them, there was progress.  
  
Stacie provided good changes while Beca mostly caused you stress, but even with the rebel of the group, you were getting along a little bit better.  
  
The thing that bothered you the most since the start of Beca and Chloe’s relationship was definitely the fights. Chloe has never been an argumentative person and she doesn’t like confrontations, yet it seems Beca has brought that out of her.  
  
“Beca, we’re at practice now, we’ll talk about this later.”  
  
“I don’t wanna talk about this later, I wanna talk about this now. You know I didn’t do it!”  
  
“Don’t lie to me, I saw you with **_her_**!” Chloe had cried out and you were by her side within two seconds.  
  
“Chlo, you _know_ I didn’t do it!”  
  
Your eyes snapped up to your best friend’s girlfriend, you could feel your eyes burning with hatred as you eyed the nonchalant girl in front of you. “Beca, what the hell is going on?” You had asked, as if the conversation wasn’t clear enough.  
  
Beca sighed and rolled her eyes before stepping closer to you. “Chloe had a dream I cheated on her.” The girl had whispered and then looked at you as if it shouldn’t surprise you how crazy your best friend is.  
  
“It _felt_ real, Becs!” Chloe has spoken with tears in her eyes and you were forced to watch Beca comfort her.  
  
The week after that, another conversation startled you yet again.  
  
“Beca, why are you ignoring me?”  
  
“Because I don’t wanna talk to you. God, you fucking piss me off so much sometimes, do you know that?”  
  
“I didn’t mean for you to get mad.”  
  
“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you ate my sandwich, Beale!”  
  
Every time you heard the two arguing, something inside of you tightened and it made you wanna rush over there, push Beca as far away from your friend as possible and protecting her the best you could.  
  
But no matter how intense some of their weird arguments got, ten minutes after each and every one of them, you would find them giggling and smiling at each other during Bellas practice, or heavily making out –much to the dislike of your stomach- or simply having a quiet conversation.  
  
You had tried to get used to their dynamics, yet whenever either of them raised their voice, your senses were instantly heightened and your body was ready to intercept.  
  
The day of the semi-finals was a little bit different.  
  
Beca’s unforeseen actions provoke an encounter, but the fight isn’t like any other you’ve ever witnessed. Technically, you and Beca are having a confrontation, but everyone can see it’s actually between Chloe and Beca.  
  
You try to ignore the way Beca looks broken and abandoned and focus on your anger after her stunt during the performance, but part of you aches for her. You’re quick to push and hide that somewhere no one can ever find it.  
  
A larger part, however, feels satisfied that your best friend sticks with you. Beca couldn’t steal Chloe away from you and it’s proven now.  
  
“No, forget it. If this is what I get for trying..”  
  
You want to make a comment about how poorly her efforts were, but you have a feeling the tiny girl wasn’t talking about her attempts within the Bellas.  
  
“Beca, wait!”  
  
You always knew she’d leave one day and you’re glad you don’t have to wait for that to happen anymore. You watch her disappear and you instantly accept it’ll be the last you’ll ever see of her. “Chlo, just let her go.” You say as you reach out for her arm, but she’s quick to dodge your touch.  
  
“Bree, you’re just making things worse.” Chloe says with a blaming look on her face before following the path Beca took while walking away from the team.  
  
“She left us, Chloe. Just let her go! They’re calling out the winners soon!”  
  
But your words hang uselessly in the air as you watch your best friend run after the girl she claims to love.  
  
“It’s not your fault.” Stacie tugs at your shoulders and guides you towards the stage.  
  
“Of course it’s not.” You say with a small scoff, unsure whether you’re convincing your girlfriend or yourself.

* * *

  
  
Your team, excluding Chloe and Beca, are on stage when the judges inform you of the winners. It’s no surprise that your team isn’t one of them. Beca messed everything up with her selfish and reckless actions. You feel angry that this girl has wrecked everything. You were supposed to guide the Bellas to victory, one last time. You were supposed to show the graduated and previous, strict leader of the Bellas that you’re not just a vomiting, slut bag. You were supposed to win.  
  
The mixture of annoyance, displeasure and irritation that’s beating through your body angrily wants out and when you find Chloe backstage, you think it has found a target.  
  
“Chlo, how did it go?”  
  
“Did you find her?”  
  
“Yeah, where’s Beca?”  
  
Except the girls beat you to it and you’re forced to keep your mouth shut.  
  
“I was too late. She was already gone.” Chloe speaks with teary-eyes and a looped smile that she always uses to prevent a full breakdown.  
  
The girls all move in and hug your best friend, but you’re still too angry to show compassion.  
  
“Chloe, all members of the Bellas are supposed to be on stage when they announce the winners. If you walk away from us again, I’m afraid there will be consequences.”  
  
Some girls throw you a look before hugging your best friend even tighter. Amy mumbles something that you can’t make out, but you guess it isn’t very nice. Cynthia-Rose disapprovingly shakes her head. Stacie’s just staring at you with her eyebrows raised in distaste at your actions.  
  
But Chloe doesn’t.  
  
Chloe smiles at you while breaking free from the group and closing the distance between you two. “I didn’t walk away from the team, Aubs. Just from you.”  
  
“From me?!”  
  
“Yeah, I.. I don’t think I wanna see you for a few days, Bree.” Chloe simply states before she shrugs apologetically and starts walking away.  
  
“You can’t leave me, Chlo!” You scoff loudly, but the other Bellas follow your friend out the door and you’re forced to watch them leave you too, one by one.  
  
“Come on, let’s go home.” Stacie speaks tiredly. She tucks at your hand, and you weakly comply.

* * *

  
  
“Am I the reason Chloe and Beca broke up?” You ask Stacie during the first week of spring break that marks the fifth day of Chloe Beale not speaking to you.  
  
“You couldn’t have found a better time to bring this up?” Stacie asks from across the room wearing nothing but a light-blue, lace bra and matching panties. She walks over to where you’re seated, positions herself between your legs and unclasps her top to release her chest. “You may have caused the fight, but they already had issues. If they can’t work those out, it’s not your fault.”  
  
You know Stacie’s just trying to make you feel better, with few words and a lot of physical contact over the break, but you think deep down you know you’re responsible.  
  
Stacie has been the biggest, positive change in your life. Sure, she caused storms inside of you in both great and conflicting ways, but they led to positivity nonetheless. Your grades –much like your current sexuality- hasn’t been straight since the day Stacie came into your life, but you’ve learned B plusses and A minuses are good enough too, for the sake of having a social life.  
  
It all came down to balance. Something you thought you had all figured out, but turned out to be completely wrong. All the weights were on one scale while the other was entirely empty, and you have learned that that one’s the scale that brings you the most happiness. Not locking yourself in your room every night to assure you’re the smartest person in class the next day, not drilling and disciplining the only group of girls who can stand you, not convincing yourself that your ways are best and never parting from them.  
  
And even though Beca brought mostly bad changes, like hurting your best friend and turning her against you, you’d have to admit she, too, helped balance you out.  
  
It’s a tough revelation.  
  
“Do you think Chloe hates me?”  
  
“Of course not.” Stacie mumbles while she’s busy creating marks on the entire length of your neck.  
  
“She hasn’t even texted me back!”  
  
Stacie puts some distance between your two bodies before giving you her signature smirk. “She’ll come around. Here, try calling her again.”  
  
Stacie hands you your phone and it starts to vibrate as soon as it lands in your hand. Too enthusiastic that your best friend’s finally calling you and afraid you’ll miss it, you answer without checking the caller ID.  
  
But there’s a man on the other side of the line that explains that the lead singer of the Footnotes caused their group to be disqualified and you’ll be taking their spot in the finals. You respectfully and collectedly accept and you don’t lose your composure until you’ve ended the call.  
  
In the blink of an eye, you’ve flipped Stacie and you have her pushed up against the kitchen counter in your sudden found dominance and excitement. “This is it, Stace. Beca Mitchell is finally out of the picture and the Bellas have a shot at winning the Nationals. I’m holding an emergency meeting first thing tomorrow morning where Chloe has no choice but to talk to me and when she does, everything will be right again.” You speak determined while sending a group text to your girls. “I am right back on track, Stacie.”  
  
"You really are a control freak, aren't you?" Stacie hums while taking the phone from your hands and tossing it to the other side of the room before connecting her lips to your collar bones and chest.  
  
"And you're really not." You say as the annoyance of not being able to start executing your plan right away evaporates with every second Stacie's lips are in contact with your skin.  
  
"I know. How great are we together?"  
  
You give in to the pleasure that day, confident that whatever will cross your path now, won't be able to stop you from accomplishing everything you had set to do since your first day of senior year.  
  
But there is one more surprise heading your way and Beca Mitchell has everything to do with it..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI; I'm finally comfortable -after this chapter- to change my tag 'lowkey Staubrey' to actual Staubrey haha! Hope you guys enjoyed this off-chapter. Let me know what you think and if you liked it!


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "I’m sorry that I’m both this low ceiling in our room as well as your sky. I’m sorry that I’m both your umbrella and the rain." -Tablo
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't believe this is the second to last chapter, guys. Huge appreciation for anyone still reading this! Hope y'all are ready for one last ride on this crazy rollercoaster.. ;)

You knew you were wrong. You knew it right when it was happening, but you didn’t truly realize it until you were forced to watch Beca walk away from you.  
  
You felt an instant emptiness inside of you. As if she left with the bigger –and better- part of yourself. You don’t know if it was yours to claim, or if it’s been hers all along. All you know is that it’s gone now.  
  
You made it outside too late.  
  
You didn’t see a car speed off or a bus exiting the stop where you’d have to dramatically chase it, like in the movies Beca hates so much. But you kind of wish there was a scene like that, because after a walk around the entire building and finding no trace of the girl anywhere, you had no clue if you were supposed to keep looking or accept that she had left.  
  
Which she had done whether you accepted it or not.  
  
The thing you were fearing since day one had happened, and you have no idea how to deal with that. You have no idea how to accept that your girlfriend has left you.  
  
You don’t know why you were so stupid to allow that to happen. What Beca did –though surprising- was great! She pitched her song perfectly and the crowd seemed to like it, too. You could feel the energy shift even within your own group, from a state of consciousness to excitement.  
  
“That was awesome, Becs!”  
  
That was your initial feeling, and perhaps the only honest one. Aubrey’s words brought you to doubt it. Beca went under attack and you could feel the girls hiding behind you, waiting, as if your opinion would make a difference.  
  
Maybe it would have.  
  
Maybe others loved what Beca did as well, but were afraid to say so.  
  
But you kept quiet and you ruined everything. The look on Beca’s face as she realized you weren’t backing her up will be forever one of your least favorites. It brought you physical and emotional pain, watching the girl you love think you’re not on her side, that you’re against her.  
  
You can’t even blame her for walking away. You can only blame yourself for giving her a perfectly good reason to.  
  
That night, you arrived at a dorm room that only contained your belongings and you cried yourself to sleep in a bed that still had Beca’s smell perfuming it.

* * *

  
  
You spent the weekend isolating yourself from the outside world and you didn’t leave the room even once. By the end of it, it smelled like takeout food, paint and sweat, none very inviting on its own, not to mention mixed together.  
  
Except for creating at least six new projects for Paul’s class, the weekend was a waste and you didn’t feel any better by Monday morning.  
  
Aubrey had tried to reach you, -sixty-seven times using her phone and eleven times by banging her first on your closed door- but none of her attempts contained an apology for her behavior and most of them weren’t even sympathetic or _nice_. She was simply ordering you to text her back or open the door for her.  
  
While time away from your best friend has been good for you, it started to appear that it didn’t do much good for Aubrey.  
  
But you had better things to focus on.  
  
You had told yourself you’d wait a few days with contacting Beca. She had texted you late Friday night that she was staying at her dad’s place and you had decided that if she felt more comfortable with _her father_ than with you, it was serious and she needed distance.  
  
Today marks the third day since you’ve last seen her and you hope that’s the most time you have to be without her ever again.  
  
**Chloe: hey can I call you? Need 2 talk xxx (9:31)  
**  
**Tiny Lover: can’t. Dad’s in the room. Ssup? (9:34)  
**  
You write that you’re sorry, then delete. You write that you miss her, cry, then delete.  
  
**Chloe: best if we talk in person.. Can I come over? (9:49)  
**  
**Tiny Lover: sure (9:51)  
Tiny Lover: noon? (9:51)  
**  
**Chloe: I’ll be there. (9:52)  
**

* * *

  
  
Eleven fifty-five and you ring the bell to the house you’ve been to a couple of times before, yet it feels weird having your girlfriend behind that door and not beside you.  
  
The door flings open and Beca’s wet hair and shirt that’s only halfway over her chest causes your mouth to fall open in surprise. Everything you had planned to say evaporates and disappears into the air.  
  
“You’re early.” Beca states as she fixes her shirt and disappears back into the room.  
  
You let yourself in and close the door behind you before taking a deep breath and allowing your eyes to find Beca before deciding to let it all out.  
  
But Beca’s brushing her teeth in the kitchen as she’s jumping around to get her feet into her socks.  
  
She looks way too calm and it’s scary, like the day the two of you became official. You wonder if ending a relationship is as easy for her as starting one.  
  
“Beca, I don’t understand what-“ You stumble nervously and afraid of what’s next to come.  
  
“Oh, Sheila doesn’t like it when I brush my teeth downstairs, hence why I brush my teeth downstairs.” Beca replies as if that’s what you were questioning.  
  
Beca walks past you and you follow her to the couch, having absolutely zero clue of what’s about to happen.  
  
“Look, I-“ Beca starts, and you interrupt her, because you’re scared what words will follow those two. You’re not ready to have your heart handed back to you. You’re not ready to become Beca’s _ex_ -girlfriend.  
  
“I’m sorry, Beca. I really am. You are an amazing singer and what you did was awesome! I wanted you to join the Bellas, because I saw your potential. I knew you could get us far, but with all of Aubrey’s restrictions, that became impossible. And you were right, we shouldn’t have put the blame on you when you were simply trying. **_I_** shouldn’t have.” You decide. “Because I support you and I believe in you and I love you.”  
  
Suddenly, you notice that Beca is smiling. Her cheeks are slightly pink in color and her eyes are shining brightly at you. But her mouth stays closed, making you yet again fear for the worst.  
  
“And I understand if you don’t wanna be with me anymore-“ The rest of that sentence falls short due to the tears rolling out of your eyes and the inability to speak with that lump in your throat.  
  
“Don’t wanna be with you? What are you talking about, Beale?” Beca says with disbelief in her voice as her hand falls to rest in your lap, calming you down instantly at the very knowledge that she’s here and reaching out.  
  
You allow yourself to look at the girl and a shot of anger spirals up your spine at Beca’s honest oblivion. “Beca, you left.” You say with more spite than you ever intended to. Carefully this time with your unsteady voice, you try again. “You packed your bags and you left to stay at your dad’s house. I don’t hear from you all weekend, what am I supposed to think?”  
  
“Wait, no, it’s not like that.” Beca speaks fast before she takes a deep breath and rubs at her temples. “The bus ride back to Louisiana gave me some time to think about what happened. I know how much the Bellas mean to you, even if you’re not as obsessed with winning like Aubrey is, I know how much you wanted to win the title and I messed that up for you. What I did was a giant, dick move and I should’ve discussed it with you guys first. It was selfish and stupid to just change everything on the spot.”  
  
You tuck at the girl’s hand to let her know it wasn’t that bad, but letting her continue her side of it anyway.  
  
“Then I got home and I didn’t wanna wait to see how disappointed you were in me, so I left. But I see now how it may have come across..”  
  
“What did I say about using your words?” You chuckle at the misunderstanding that has allowed this moment to originate.  
  
“What did I say about my poor communication skills?” Beca jokes back.  
  
The air between you two is changing into something lighter and that’s a good thing, but you don’t think all has been said yet.  
  
“You know I could never be disappointed in you, Beca.”  
  
“Then I should probably stop giving you reasons to.” Beca scoffs mockingly at her own actions. She smiles at you and you watch her eyes dropping to your lips. The anticipation builds in the milliseconds it takes Beca to move in and kiss you lightly, and you know it’s stupid, but it feels like the very first time.  
  
“Oh, Chloe.” A male voice comes from right behind you and it causes you to break the kiss. “It’s good to see you again.”  
  
“Mister Mitchell.” You greet happily as you cover the lips his daughter was kissing only seconds ago. “It’s good to see you, too! How have you been?”  
  
“I’m great. Very happy to have my sweetheart with me this spring break.” Beca’s father says while trying to get his daughter to embrace him.  
  
“Not the entirety of it.” Beca grumbles while escaping his surrounding arms.  
  
But her father just looks proud and indeed happy to have her around. “Chloe, would you like to join us for lunch today? Considering what I just walked into, I assume you girls have made up?”  
  
You chuckle at the man’s words while finding Beca in full embarrassment and unsettlement grinding her teeth. You smirk at her with a suggesting arch of your eyebrow and watch the perfect roll of her eyes in return.  
  
“I’d have to assume that as well, Mr. Mitchell.” You state jokingly.  
  
“Just grab your coat, Beale.” Beca mumbles grumpy, leaving you and her father with the giggles.

* * *

  
  
After spending the afternoon and pretty much the entire Monday with the Mitchells, you decide it’s time for you to go. Beca left the campus for a reason and whether or not you’ve apologized, you need to accept the fact that she needs space and not force yourself on her more than you already have today.  
  
Except Ben doesn’t allow you to leave and he doesn’t accept your excuses either.  
  
“Come on, Chloe. It’s already late, just stay the night and you can head home tomorrow.”  
  
“Or you can join Ben and Beca. They’ve made plans for this entire week, didn’t you?”  
  
“We sure have!”  
  
“ _You_ have, yes.” Beca mumbles annoyed, but you see the hint of a smile hiding somewhere behind her façade.  
  
“I don’t know. I think I best go.” You say hesitant as you get ready to leave the house. You’d love to stay and you feel welcome in the two adults’ house, but it’s the remaining person that makes you feel like you’re overstaying your invite.  
  
Beca waits for you to have put on your shoes and coat before walking you to the door. “You could stay, you know.” She states as a remark instead of a question.  
  
You give her a tight-lipped smile before kissing her lips quickly. “When will you be back home?”  
  
“Soon.” Beca promises.

* * *

  
  
The days are longer and tiring without Beca around. She texts you a lot, though. Mostly complaining about what kind of activities her father has picked out for the day, but you don’t mind that at all. And even though you’ve just had one of the worst fights between you two, you think you’re okay and she needs this time to rebuild her relationship with her father. They’ve already come such a long way, but for Beca to voluntarily stay at their house, that says a lot.  
  
You think she needs this. Her dad needs it. Maybe even Sheila needs it.  
  
And you need Beca, too. But you can wait a day or two, if that’s what it takes.  
  
You also realize you’re starting to miss your best friend. Aubrey hasn’t stopped texting and calling you, and you still haven’t returned any of them. Even though the temptation to do so grows by the day, you think she’s finally starting to feel the ache of being away from you and realize her actions.  
  
Or so you hope.  
  
Her messages weaken and she even uses the word ‘please’ a few times. Just when you’ve made up your mind about texting her back first thing tomorrow, you receive a message –all in capital letters- that The Footnotes have been disqualified and The Bellas are going through to the finals after all.  
  
Alone in your room, you jump up and down and scream out in excitement, suddenly feeling the desire to run across campus to your best friend and hug her tightly, because your group has gotten another chance.  
  
But you ignore that feeling and continue to dance on your own, until you feel like it has satisfied you. You will see your best friend tomorrow for her planned Bellas meeting and you have no idea what it will bring you and what will happen, but you need to have faith in your friendship and hope Aubrey has understood what she’s done and will be ready to apologize.

* * *

  
  
You awake that early Thursday morning feeling better than you have in a while. Beca and you are doing okay and you feel like your relationship is stronger than ever. You feel like you can survive anything that life throws your way, because the love you have for each other is more powerful than anything else.  
  
Love.  
  
You had blocked Beca’s spoken words out of your head for these last couple of days, unwilling to believe them or feel like you deserved it after you failed to have her back after the semi-finals. But now that the air is cleared and things have been resolved, you can’t help but repeat those words in Beca’s voice over and over in your head.  
  
She loves you.  
  
You don’t know if it was a surprise. You don’t know if you’ve ever truly doubted it. But to finally hear her return the words you’ve been telling her for months felt like a weight lifting itself off of your shoulders and perhaps taking your body with it on its way to the sky.  
  
She loves you.  
  
The revelation caused your mind to go blank for the longest second. For a moment, everything was quiet and everything was right. It felt like time had frozen and you rationally knew it were only a couple of seconds, meaningless to perhaps anyone else in this world, but you couldn’t and wouldn’t snap out of the bliss Beca’s words brought you.  
  
She loves you.  
  
You feel stronger and invincible with that knowledge and that feeling inside of you that you know is her love for you.

* * *

  
  
On your way to the last-minute planned Bellas meeting, Beca texts you she’ll be there as soon as she can and you reply with a couple of cute emoji’s.  
  
After your lonesome dancing party last night and a quick text to your best friend to release your happiness about the information, you shot your girlfriend a text telling her what was going on and what time she had to be in the gym for the meeting.  
  
Beca’s father had a breakfast planned out and she said she’d rather not cancel, so she’ll most likely be a little late, but the important thing is she’ll be there and you get to see her again.  
  
Upon entering the gym, Aubrey and Stacie are in the middle of a conversation you seem to have broken up. Amy and Lilly are lying on the floor making snow-angels for God knows what reason while Cynthia-Rose is throwing popcorn at them from the side, and the rest of the group hasn’t arrived yet, so it seems.  
  
“Hi Stace!” You greet the tall girl enthusiastic as she passes you to clearly give you time alone with your best friend. “Bree.” You state after, lacking your previous positive energy and enjoyment.  
  
Aubrey avoids eye contact as she’s awkwardly and uncomfortably fiddling with her shirt. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she would be on the verge of apologizing.  
  
“Thanks for fitting us into your tight schedule. I know you must have been busy if you didn’t even have the time to call me back, Chlo.”  
  
But you do know better and you’re not surprised at all by your best friend’s words. They’re clearly targeted to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad about ignoring her, but they crash into your armor and fail to impact your body.  
  
“It’s nice to see you, too, Bree.” You reply sarcastic as you pass by her and take a seat on the bleachers. You’re not interested in a conversation with her if she hasn’t learned anything from your silence.  
  
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. We have a lot of preparation to do. Jessica and Ashley will be here shortly and then we can get started on-“  
  
“And Beca.” You interrupt bold, keeping your eyes set on your best friend to show her you’re fearless.  
  
“What about _Beca_?” Aubrey scoffs, pronouncing your girlfriend’s name as if it’s poison on her tongue.  
  
“She should be here any second now.” You say as you make a scene out of checking your watch. When Aubrey’s eyebrows stay low and oblivious, you roll your eyes the way Beca always does before explaining. “I texted her.”  
  
“You did what?”  
  
“This is a Bellas meeting. Beca is a Bella.” You state simply. If you’re being honest, you are a little surprised by how easy and smooth the rebellious words fall out of your mouth and how little Aubrey’s stare can get to you. It’s like she has nothing on you anymore. Nothing to tone you down or shut you up. You feel stronger than ever and the shackles that were once around your ankles broke due to the force you have recently found within.  
  
“Not since Friday, she’s not!” Aubrey yells out angry.  
  
“She is, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” You shrug unbothered by the raise of her voice.  
  
You watch your best friend stammer in disbelief, but unable to find any words.  
  
“Beca makes us better.”  
  
“That’s not an opinion for you to have!” Your best friend finally screams out in rage, obviously aggravated that you’ve chosen to stand up for yourself.  
  
“Why? Because it’s not yours? You’re not always right, you know.” You say with annoyance and tiredness of fighting. “What happened to us, Bree? We used to be such good friends and lately you’ve been treating me like shit.”  
  
“It’s because of Beca.” Aubrey mumbles still visibly angry.  
  
“It’s not because of Beca.” You scoff with a small laugh. “It’s because of you. Why can’t you just apologize?”  
  
Aubrey takes a seat next to you and once again shows her vulnerability by avoiding eye contact. “You know I’m not any good at that.” She whispers softly.  
  
“Because you don’t want to admit you did something wrong, because you’re Aubrey Posen. You’re your father’s daughter and you can’t make mistakes.” You say understanding. You know exactly why your best friend turned out this way, but there comes a time when parents can’t be the reason for your mistakes. At one point, Aubrey’s going to have to own up to what she’s doing and her father can’t be her excuse anymore.  
  
_“If at first you don’t succeed, pack your bags.”_ Aubrey reenacts her father’s voice and it makes both of you laugh instantly.  
  
“How about.. ‘If at first you don’t succeed, apologize, and try again’?” You pitch satisfying.  
  
Aubrey nods, rests her head on your shoulder and whispers she’s sorry for everything. “You’re my best friend and I love you. At first, I thought I was protecting you from Beca, but I think I was just scared to lose you to her.” Her whispered words turn into quiet sobs and tears flow quickly after hearing your best friend choking up.  
  
“You will never lose me.” You cry back while side-hugging the girl.  
  
“I told you so.” Stacie laughs while joining the moment and soon every other Bella is wrapping their arms around you.  
  
“The moms are back together!”  
  
“But if you guys cry, I cry!”  
  
“My tear ducts were removed when I was two years old.”  
  
“I’ve missed you so much!”  
  
“I’ve missed you, too!”  
  
“Guys, guys! What’s going on?”  
  
That last voice echoes around the room hard and shocked. It causes the group to break up and you watch your best friend wipe her eyes clean before you’re forced to do the same.  
  
“Nothing. This is just a warm-up for rehearsals, Beca.”  
  
“Right.” You hear how your girlfriend takes personal offence in the remark. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry.  What I did was a real dick move and I shouldn’t have changed the set without asking you guys. And I definitely shouldn’t have left. I let you guys down and I’m really sorry.” Beca swallows hard while making eye contact with you and you smile and nod, hoping she’ll continue. “And Aubrey, if you would have me, I want back in.”  
  
Pride for Beca’s actions soon start to fade and get replaced by fear due to your best friend’s silence. “Bree!” You hiss pushy.  
  
“I don’t know.” Aubrey speaks and the entire group instantly launches themselves at her. “I mean-” Aubrey yells to overcome the noise. “-I think this should be a group decision.”  
  
Pleased with both of the girl’s efforts, you shoot Beca a wink and you hug your best friend’s back to your front.  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“We need Beca!”  
  
“I’ll set a bear trap in case she wants to leave again.”  
  
The girls scream and cheer while capturing Beca into a group hug, one you know is entirely too tight for her preference.  
  
“But Chlo, won’t this be weird for you?” Aubrey asks with a flash of concern and worry passing her facial features. “Now that.. You know? You and Beca have broken up?”  
  
Amy inhales a deep breath of air in the most exaggerated and dramatic way possible while the other girls keep their surprise on a semi-normal level.  
  
“What are you talking about? Beca and I haven’t broken up.” You chuckle.  
  
“This is what happens when you ignore your best friend for a week.” Beca laughs as she makes her way over to shake Aubrey’s hand and crash her body into yours.  
  
“Don’t you dare school _me_ about communications, Beca Mitchell.” You say with squinted eyes and a smile you fail to suppress before giving in to the desire to kiss your girlfriend.

* * *

/

* * *

  
  
“Hey, dad.”  
  
The walk to your father’s house was bad enough, but the look on his face when he finds you with your bags in hand standing outside his porch was nothing compared to that.  
  
“Beca? What are you doing here this late?” He asks while urging you inside. Your father’s hair is messy and you recognize the t-shirt he uses to wear to bed, making it clear that while it isn’t even midnight, it is in fact late for your dad.  
  
“Can I stay here?” You ask while avoiding eye contact, already feeling vulnerable with the words you have to use.  
  
“Ben, who is it?!” Sheila yells from upstairs and the roll of your eyes happens unprompted.  
  
“It’s Beca, honey.” Your father yells back instead of answering your question.  
  
“I can sleep on the couch.” You reason, as if that would convince the man.  
  
“Beca, don’t be silly. This is your home, too. Your room is always ready for you, you can stay as long as you want.” He says while urging you inside and closing the door behind you.  
  
“Thanks, dad.” You say, yet you ditch your bags near the couch before letting yourself fall on the comfortable sofa, even though the floor would seem comfortable after six hours in a bus.  
  
“You wanna talk about what’s going on?” Your father asks hesitant as he grabs a blanket and hands it to you.  
  
“Maybe tomorrow, dad.” You say as you settle down and your father kills the lights before you hear his steps trailing up the stairs.  
  
You fall asleep angry that night. Angry that you let yourself get used to sleeping in the same bed as Chloe Beale, because –yes, you fall asleep, but- it takes you three hours to finally do so, now on your own.

* * *

  
  
You awake way too early for a Saturday morning, due to the people in this house. You keep your eyes shut though, not prepared to start this day yet and eventually a closing door ends the noise.  
  
You move to a seated position and annoyingly get used to the amount of sunlight in this room.  
  
“Morning, pumpkin.”  
  
You find your father in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hands, obviously finding his sight entertaining. “It’s too early for conversation.” You mumble as you walk into his direction and brush past him to wash your face.  
  
“I don’t know, Beca. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll get. Just tell me what happened.” He pitches as he slides a cup of coffee your way.  
  
You look at him questioning at first, wondering what makes him think you’d confide in him, but he just stares and waits for you, so you roll your eyes and down the hot caffeine-filled drink before deciding that you might as well.  
  
“I fucked things up with the Bellas and probably with Chloe, too. Now they all hate me and I don’t know what to do.” You say surprisingly honest.  
  
Your dad nods at your words. “I didn’t know you cared so much about those girls.” He says with a slight smile where you think you see a hint of pride and astonishment reflecting in his eyes.  
  
“Believe me, no one was more surprised than me, but they became a sort of..-“ You ponder your words, roll your eyes, and then decide to go with it anyway. “Family.” You breathe out heavily.  
  
“And you thought quitting was the answer?”  
  
Your initial reaction is to bite your father’s head off, turn the cross-examination on him and ask him how he dares to ask you that question after the way he abandoned you when you needed him years ago, after he made you feel like you didn’t lose one but two parents.  
  
And maybe a few months ago, you would have gone with that first instinct.  
  
It even takes you a little by surprise that you don’t go with that today, but you’ve had too many lunches and too much understanding for your father now. You’ve learned that –just like the flight attendants explain during their instructions before the plane takes off- during extreme turbulence times, you have to save yourself before you can save anyone else.  
  
Your dad was simply struggling with his own oxygen mask before being able to help you. He wasn’t giving up on you; you can see that now.  
  
So you laugh at the man’s words and he laughs along with you. “I always think that’s the answer.” You shrug carelessly, knowing you can’t change what you did.  
  
“Do you wanna know what I think?” Your old man asks and he doesn’t even wait for you to cut in with a sarcastic remark. “I think you didn’t even want to leave, Beca. I think you were scared you were going to get kicked off the team, so instead of waiting for that to happen, you fled. You leave people before they can leave you, right?”  
  
You contemplate his words and you feel a kind of sadness washing over you, because you think your dad might be right.  
  
“What about Chloe?”  
  
“Nothing, I was just mad at her.”  
  
“Were you? Or were you mad at yourself?”  
  
“Okay, that’s enough, Dr. Seuss.”

* * *

  
  
Your dad asks you to not leave yet, and you’re quite frankly not ready to go back to your dorm room and face Chloe, especially since she hasn’t reached out to you and you’re afraid of what she might say. So you join your father and his wife on their typical weekend activities, which are surprisingly domestic and boring.  
  
You wouldn’t say you feel at home in their place. You sleep on the couch like the guest you feel you are, even though your dad tries to get you up the stairs and into your old bedroom multiple times.  
  
But you’re quite comfortable around your father and his wife, and you think maybe that’s good enough for now.  
  
Chloe wakes you up on Monday morning with a text message that’s sent way too early for the first official day of spring break, but like the girl’s usual –and much preferred- ways, it gets the job done and before you know it, you’re getting ready to face her for the first time in days.  
  
You know you have to apologize.  
  
You’ve known that pretty much the second you walked away from her and the rest of the group, but you were still too angry then to completely process what just happened.  That anger –whether it was aimed at other people or yourself- started to fade as you found your way home. The long ride combined with the outside view and the music blasting through your headphones eventually calmed you down and made you put things in perspective.  
  
Out of fear of what Chloe had truly thought of your actions, you had packed your bags and left for the only place you knew to go.  
  
Your father’s house.  
  
He made you feel welcomed, something you hadn’t doubted he’d do. No matter what’s going on between the two of you, he likes to make sure you always have somewhere to go. Even if that place isn’t perfect, your dad has made sure from the very start that the door is always opened without questioning.  
  
Without any realization on your part, your father had become a safe haven, even if it was only for a day or two after months of not having seen him.  
  
And he has great insight, even though you’d never tell that to his face.  
  
A part of the anger and hurt you felt over Chloe presumably choosing her best friend over you were nothing more than your defense mechanisms coming up out of terror of showing vulnerability and owning up to your made mistakes.  
  
Luckily, Chloe doesn’t make it too hard on you.  
  
In fact, she makes it way too easy and you think she had forgiven you way before her knuckles impacted your father’s front door.  
  
“You do know I’m sorry for walking away, right?” You ask her while Sheila is complaining about your dad’s choice of CD on the way back to the house.  
  
“It’s okay, Becs. You always come back.” She says with a bright smile before defending your father and his love for Phil Collins.  
  
Chloe stays for dinner that night and during a completely non-specific and non-important moment, you feel a sense of tenderness and sadness wash over you. You suddenly feel like you’re in one of Jesse’s movies. With Chloe’s hand tucked in yours and hidden underneath the table, Sheila and your father laughing over something the girl just said, you think you’d look like a picture-perfect family in that scene.  
  
Perhaps it matches the end of the movie; the beautiful epilogue with piano music and slow-motion showed laughs.  
  
Perhaps the beginning; just four, stupid people having their last meal before a huge storm hits them.  
  
Silly enough, you fear the latter the least, because at least you know what comes after the storm. No one ever tells you what comes after the happy ending of a story.  
  
You think that’s the reason you don’t insist on Chloe spending a few days with you in this house.  
  
You could let her sleep in the bed that used to be yours. Have breakfast together. Watch your father and your stepmother fall in love with her if they haven’t already. You could do anything just to prolong this sentimental family feeling, but you’re scared of what comes after that.  
  
Because the only storm this family has ever known is you. And you’re starting to wonder if all the happy endings Jesse loves so much aren’t just opening scenes to disaster movies.

* * *

  
  
“Okay, what’s going on?” You dad asks as he turns the TV off and kills the news channel you were watching. “You’ve got one of those faces.”  
  
“One of those faces? Gee, thanks dad.”  
  
“You know what I mean. You’ve been grumpy these last two days, now.”  
  
“I’m always grumpy.”  
  
“You weren’t grumpy on Monday.” Your father says wiseacre. “Did something happen between you and Chloe?”  
  
“Of course not, why would you even think that?”  
  
“I think you’re overwhelmed by the amount of things going right in your life right now and I think that scares you. I’d hate to see you push Chloe away. She’s a very nice, young lady and she has a positive effect on you, Beca.”  
  
Your dad’s words make sense to a certain extent. Your relationship with your father has improved so much over the last few months and you even get along a little bit with your stepmother. It has been difficult and the road has been bumpy, but you were never afraid.  
  
What you have with Chloe is a little bit different. She does scare you. In fact, she can make you feel every emotion humanly possible; from extremely high highs to radically low lows, you’ve been all over the place.  
  
And you definitely have fears.  
  
You fear you’ll disappoint her. You fear one day she’ll grow tired of your sarcasm. You fear that many years from now, she won’t look at you with that awe in her eyes anymore. You fear you’ll never be good enough for her.  
  
But you’re not afraid to be happy with her.  
  
Extremely, unrestrictedly and dangerously happy.  
  
“I’m not pushing her away, dad. I literally just sent her a text.” You chuckle in appreciation of your father’s ungrounded concern. “I’m just worried about what comes next.”  
  
“Well, you know what I always say, Beca. Life is a rollercoaster. One minute, you’re up high and the next you’re crashing down.”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“But-“ He continues with a grand smile on his face. “-That doesn’t mean you’re not in control. If you truly want something to work out, it won’t matter what comes your way. Look at us, Beca.” Your father’s smile drips slowly off of his face until the only thing that’s left is a painful raise of the corners of his lips while you can see his mind is taking him on a trip down memory lane.  
  
Before you know what you’re doing, you’re off one couch and onto the one your father has claimed. You sit next to him without any physical contact, but you feel better nonetheless. You hope your father does as well.  
  
“Who would have thought five years ago –or even just last summer- that we’d be where we are right now.” Your old man sniffs with more pride than sadness in his voice. “That’s what dedication does, Beca. You just think of us whenever you start to have doubts.”  
  
“I will, dad.” You whisper while thinking about what your next step should be.  
  
If you’re being honest with yourself, you already knew what that step was long before your dad started preaching and long before Chloe sent you a text that was completely in caps and many typing errors.  
  
Returning to the group and apologizing won’t be easy. Aubrey definitely won’t make it easy, but it’s something you have to do.  
  
You don’t sleep that well that night and that feeling grows progressively worse during the walk back to campus in the morning. You’ve brought your bags with you, but even without them on your body, you can feel the pressure.  
  
You decide to ditch them at your dorm first, even just for the sake of stalling.  
  
The room looks just the same. Except for the fact that you can’t see the floor due to the amount of clothes, art material, books and dirty dishes.  
  
It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you back any time soon.  
  
You make your way over to where the Bellas’ meeting  is held. You think you’re going to be late, but that’s usually what happens when you don’t have a gorgeous, ginger girl on your heels, telling you to move faster.  
  
You get through the doors relatively quiet, deciding that if you hear even one sound that doesn’t feel good, you’ll make a run for it and forget all about your redemption within the group.  
  
You’re not sure what you were expecting.  
  
The girls doing cardio. The girls dancing. Aubrey yelling at them. Perhaps even a huge fight between the two captains of the group.  
  
Anything except eight girls bawling their eyes out.  
  
“Guys, guys, what’s going on!” You scream confused and desperate to end the awkward moment you just walked into.  
  
Aubrey’s the first one to break free from the group while the rest of the girls find comfort within each other’s arms again.  
  
“Nothing. This is just a warm-up for rehearsals, Beca.” Coach speaks plain, making it clear you don’t belong here.  
  
You take a deep breath before finding the courage inside to go follow the plan you’ve set for yourself. Chloe’s powerful stare during your speech somehow only strengthens you and that’s perhaps the only reason you finish your apology, because Aubrey’s unimpressed look was almost enough for you to run for the door.  
  
“I don’t know.”  
  
The words hit you hard enough to pull your walls up, but your father’s words about dedication cause you to kick them down again and wait in vulnerability for the final punch.  
  
“I mean, I think this should be a group decision.”  
  
Finally, you’re able to breathe again and listen to the other voices in the room. The rest of the Bellas are cheering for you, throwing compliments your way and –unfortunately- sealing their vote for you in a physical manner.  
  
The feelings that echoed through your body less than a week ago when it was you against the rest have flipped now that there are no sides, just one, big group of screaming and crying girls.  
  
After you’ve found your comfort in the only girl’s arms that could provide that for you and the group has settled down after an intense session of shouting out their support, Aubrey makes it official and the girls burst out in a spontaneous dancing routine to celebrate.  
  
“Okay, Beca.” Coach speaks serious again and every single Bella freezes in their spot. “What do we do?”  
  
A smile forms on your face and you go around the room to make sure every person can witness it. “Now we win.” You say confident and the group once again responds loudly, making you laugh so hard it hurts your stomach.

* * *

  
  
“I cannot believe you’re going to have dinner with Aubrey.” Chloe says happily to you on the way back home.  
  
“I cannot believe the state of our room after I’ve only been away for a couple of days.”  
  
“You’ve been back home?” The girl who’s holding your hand lightly in hers speaks surprised.  
  
“I don’t know if it was our home or the local dump.” You reply sarcastic which instantly makes the girl you love laugh.  
  
“Shut up! I was meaning to clean today.”  
  
“You’re such a liar, Beale.”  
  
Chloe does a little cleaning, but you end up doing most of the work. You’re okay with that, because you know Chloe’s the kind of person to find something interesting in the mess and get distracted by it for at least ten minutes at a time. After all the interesting pieces are gone, she busies herself with you while you try to free the room from the awful paint smell.  
  
“Becs, do you know how much I’ve missed you?” She whispers in your left ear from behind while her hands sneak under your shirt and her warm fingertips find cold skin.  
  
“Obviously so much that it paralyzed you, since you couldn’t even do the dishes.” You complain grumpy while making your way over to the small kitchen and its sink, which isn’t very easy to do with a girl clinging to your back.  
  
But Chloe shows persistence and you’re not sure what did the trick; her teeth biting on your ear and jaw, her trail of wet kisses on your neck or the sneaky, little hands making their way into your pants, but you end up pushing your girlfriend to the wall and kissing her passionately.  
  
Her fingernails scratch deep and hard into your butt cheeks and the surprise of the sudden boldness allows for Chloe to capture your bottom lip before hastily licking into your mouth while trying to undress both you and herself at the same time.  
  
“I should go away more often.” You try to make your joke sound cocky, but Chloe pushes your pants from your legs at the same time and you think that took away the arrogance of it.  
  
 You wiggle yourself out of the fallen pants and watch Chloe take off her shirt. The tips of her fingers lift the material easily up and over her chest while her crossed arms untangle in front of her face and reach up high to completely remove the clothing item from her body before letting it fall next to her feet.  
  
The action leaves for a perfect view of the muscles in Chloe’s stomach and the few ribs you can count before her breasts take over. Perfect, ginger curls fall over her shoulders and cover little bits of skin on her chest.  
  
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” You whisper while your hands move the girl’s hair to the side and your mouth connects to her collarbones and eventually incredibly soft skin.  
  
“Beca-“ Chloe starts to pant when your teeth make contact with her nipple, the more sensitive one out of the two. Something you’ve learned very early on in your road to discovering Chloe Beale’s delicate and pleasurable spots on her body.  
  
Sucking on the soft patch of skin where her jaw meets her ear.  
  
Nails tickling that spot halfway down her back and right next to her spine.  
  
Letting your teeth scrape over the inside of her left wrist.  
  
A short list of things that make Chloe’s eyes snap shut, her muscles tense and pleas fall out of her mouth for you to move faster, quicker or nothing in specific, but easily guessable prompts for you.  
  
After a short while of testing if all of those listed still do their intended job –which of course they do-, Chloe regains some control and manages to get away from her pinned position to the wall and take you with her on her way to the bed.  
  
You fall on your back and within the blink of an eye, Chloe is hovering over you on all fours with a dark, desiring look in her eyes. She studies your face closely while flipping her hair to one side and she lets out the sexiest giggle you have ever heard.  
  
You force her hips down and the contact reminds you of places that need the girl’s attention, sooner rather than later. But the sudden jolt of her body caused Chloe to lose her balance and in a twist of events, her right hand ended up wrapped around your neck.  
  
Even with the lack of any strength, anticipation and delight shoots through your body and you think your girlfriend can tell by the look in your eyes.  
  
Chloe moves her hand a little bit up and she takes a firmer grip on you. Her thumb on one side cuts off your windpipe directly underneath your jaw while the rest of her hand rests peacefully around the shape of your neck where you can feel your heartbeat fighting against the palm of her hand.  
  
Your mouth opens involuntarily and you witness what that does to your girlfriend, you can practically see the lust grow in her two eyes.  
  
Almost every single time you have sex with the girl, there is some sort of fight for dominance. Usually something rather small, a moment of pushing her hand into the mattress or Chloe’s favorite thing to do; retrieving her fingers a second before you were about to need the friction the most.  
  
And today is no different.  
  
Chloe grows more confident by the second and it might be hot and very affecting to certain areas on your body, you can’t let her win this battle.  
  
Her grasp tightens when she realizes what you’re doing, but it’s not enough for you to fall back on the bed. You arch yourself into a seated position with the girl on top of you and push yourself through the pain in favor of the pleasure to kiss that smirk off her face. Your lips only stay connected for a second or two, unfortunately lacking the required amount of air to make it intense, but you’ve made your point and Chloe laughs before releasing her grip on you and pushing you with both hands back into the mattress.  
  
“You’re gonna regret that, Becs. You know that, right?”  
  
The girl doesn’t leave you an opening for a response, because her hand creeps into your boxers and you get slapped into an instant state of ecstasy caused by the friction of her circling fingers pushing into your clit with increasingly high pressure.  
  
But the girl was wrong. Her revenge might leave you sore, but every bit of pleasure weighs out the pain and you couldn’t regret it for even a second.  
  
“Okay, now I really have to pee. I know how much you hate it when I stop you midway, but I’ve been needing to go ever since you pushed your thigh between mine.” Chloe says with a chuckle while you’re busy reimbursing her efforts. She gets out from under your touch, steps into your underwear that got taken off of you sometime during your moments of bliss. Bare-chested and in your black boxers, she disappears for the bathroom and you wonder if anyone could ever look as sexy as Chloe does right in that moment, or in any –possibly more clothed- moment.  
  
You think not.  
  
You lay comfortable in peace and satisfaction for a few seconds until a series of vibrations coming from your phone disturb that.  
  
And perhaps disturb more peace than just that moment in your bed.  
  
**_Kevin: HOTSHOT (11:19)  
Kevin: pack your bags (11:19)  
Kevin: you’re going to LA (11:19)_**


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /
> 
> "Some people are born flight risks. It is no shortcoming of yours that they cannot keep their feet on the ground. It is not your fault that they cannot seem to stand in place. They are not leaving you; they are just leaving." -Trista Mateer
> 
> /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say a few words, since this is the final chapter, but I'm just not a woman of many words.
> 
> (Which is ironic, because I write shit..)
> 
> Enjoy one last time, my buddies!

“What do you mean, I’m going to LA?” You hiss quietly as soon as you hear your phone call has been answered.  
  
“Exactly as I say.” The male voice returns indifferent and calm, proud, confident and arrogant all at the same time.  
  
“This isn’t the time for games, Kev. Explain yourself.”  
  
And he does. He tells you about the call he received from a club manager in LA and how he found footage of you playing on New Year’s Eve. Apparently, he cut right to the chase and told your current boss he wants you to work for him.  
  
You think you’d feel flattered if you weren’t so terrified, but you hear a toilet flush and you quickly end your conversation with Kevin and head back to bed, trying to erase the entire conversation and all the information you’ve just been told in an attempt to go back to the heaven you were just in with your girlfriend.  
  
When everything seemed so normal, but looking back on it, you think things were perfect. You don’t want to damage that.  
  
And you don’t know what to make of what Kevin just told you and you have a thousand things running through your mind, so it’s easier to just block everything out.  
  
“Did you say something, babe?” Chloe asks as she reappears and jumps back into bed with you.  
  
“Just that you had to hurry.” You lie while closing the distance between her mouth and yours and deciding you are going to spend the rest of the day in bed with this girl.

* * *

  
  
The moment you step out of the room and head for the arranged dinner plans with the coach of the Bellas, Kevin’s words come back to you. They were easy to forget when you were tangled up in a bed with the girl you love, where it was hard to see which limb belonged to whom, where you mind was cleared over and over again by the orgasms she pushed you to.  
  
But now that you’re alone and you don’t have two gorgeous, blue pupils to stare into to make you forget about everything else in this world, it comes back to you like a tsunami hitting the shore after so much peace.  
  
An offer to go work in LA.  
  
It’s everything you have ever wanted, but it’s bittersweet. Six months ago, you would have already been packed and headed for the airport by now, but you’re not the same person you were back then.  
  
In your core, you’re the same grumpy, easily-angered girl. You doubt that will ever change. But you’ve calmed down. You’ve stopped running. You have settled.  
  
And perhaps even the most beautiful dreams aren’t worth chasing if it means leaving behind what you have here; college, the Bellas, your father and –the one person that’s been on your mind this entire time- Chloe.  
  
After everything the two of you have been through, you never thought something like this would cross your path and intervene with your relationship. You had assumed there would be more arguments about stupid, little things like how she borrows your shirts and then loses them. And more important arguments, like failing to get along with her best friend and how much that means for Chloe.  
  
But something as huge as this, you could have never predicted.  
  
Different scenarios cross your mind fast. Ones where you stay. Ones where you go. In some, you’re happy in college with your super-senior girlfriend and you rule as co-captains of the Bellas. In others, you’re doing the thing you love most in the one place on earth you have always wanted to be in.  
  
If there was an arrow that had to represent your decision with on one side _leaving_ and on the other _staying_ , you think it would be crashing from one side to the other before blowing out and giving up.  
  
Because that’s what you feel is happening inside of you.  
  
But perhaps if the options were revolving around your girlfriend, you don’t think you could ever choose to leave her.  
  
Maybe that’s where your arrow is pointing at.

* * *

  
  
Dinner with Aubrey goes by without any real altercations. You push and she pushes back, but she’s open to your ideas and plans and that’s enough, you decide.  
  
Friday goes by and so does most of Saturday without informing anyone about Kevin’s words. You had figured you would have come to a conclusion by now, but you haven’t. Not really. Your mind is still all over the place and you don’t know what to do. You have no idea which option is best for you, but you know you have to reach a verdict on your own before telling anyone about the offer.  
  
Which isn’t so easy when you have your current manager bragging about the club in LA and how he couldn’t be more proud of you.  
  
“I can’t believe my superstar is going to be a superstar!” He yells out enthusiastic while following you around the club. “You know what I’m going to miss most about you, Beca? That pale skin, because as soon as you hit LA, you’re going to get some color on you. Although that color might just be red.. You seem like someone who burns easily. I’ll get you some sunscreen before you go.”  
  
You turn around in anger and the man crashes into you obliviously. You want to yell at him to go away, to stop talking, to stop assuming you’re leaving, but you can’t. He has that sparkle in his eyes and you don’t want to be responsible for taking it away.  
  
So you sigh and roll your eyes before pursuing your way to the DJ booth.  
  
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m gonna miss you rolling your eyes at me, too.” The man laughs at his own words.  
  
“Don’t miss them yet.” You mumble under your breath as you lose your bags and start taking out your equipment.  
  
“What are you talking about? Beca, what’s going on?” Kevin urges impatiently with his hand wrapped around your wrist to force you to focus on him.  
  
You take a deep breathe before making eye contact with him. “Nothing. I just haven’t decided yet.”  
  
“Decided?” Kevin scoffs. “This is a new club in LA that has grown immensely rapid due to their Funktion One sound system, Beca. This is the place where people actually go to for the music. This is where you excel.” He speaks with failure to understand why you have doubts.  
  
“I just haven’t decided yet.” You repeat, desperate to block Kevin’s words out, but an image is already forming and you can see yourself in that club, producing music, making people dance. You can see yourself being _happy_.  
  
“There’s nothing to decide.” He says calm yet frustrated.  
  
“There is, for me!” You yell back angry, now. “This is my life. I have things here. And.. people. I can’t just leave everything behind!”  
  
“You can.” Kevin whispers with a sad smile as his hands squeeze your shoulders. “That day you first walked into my club, what did you have, Beca? Nothing.” He says as if it’s all as simple as that. “And I know it’s harder this time, but you have done it before. And this time you’re not just walking away from something. You’re actually _going_ somewhere. This-“ He yells, his arms wide and open now as his eyes fall closed. “-This is your dream.”  
  
For a fraction of a second, you feel happiness wash over you. You see what Kevin sees. A crowd with their hands in the air, dancing to the beats you create. A life you have pictured living so many days and even more nights, now within reach, brushing against your fingertips, if you will.  
  
But your fingers retract and return to the palm of your hand, their strength coming back and turning your hand into a powerful fist, ready to fight.  
  
“Maybe I have other dreams now.” You shrug carelessly as you finish adjusting and connecting your equipment to the club’s hardware and you play loud beats before your manager can say another word. You put your headphones on and when you look around the room a few seconds later, Kevin is gone.

* * *

  
  
You play that night to the best of your abilities, but you can’t help but wonder if your best would be good enough for a club in Los Angeles. You’re officially starting to doubt everything.  
  
When you arrive back home early Sunday morning and find Chloe in the room, you wonder if anything would be worth leaving her for.  
  
“Beca.” She mumbles as you crawl in the bed with her. Her left arm falls over your body as she snuggles her face into the crook of your neck. “How was it?” She speaks against your skin with that raspy voice you’ve come to love.  
  
You kiss the girl’s forehead and you answer her, even though you know she’s fallen back asleep already.  
  
“Not as good as this.”

* * *

  
  
“I’m not going.” You tell Kevin as soon as you acknowledge he has picked up the phone. “I’m not going and there is nothing you can say that’ll change my mind.” You say fast, determined in your decision, but not confident enough he won’t have the right words to start second-guessing yourself.  
  
He sighs and takes a few seconds before responding. “Okay.” He breathes out heavy. “You are making the biggest mistake of your life, but.. Okay. Just tell me why.”  
  
Kevin sounds disappointed and exhausted, as if he’s been up ever since your conversation a good fourteen hours ago.  
  
“I’m just not going.” You mumble for the lack of an actual explanation. You don’t think you could explain it to him and maybe you’re having trouble explaining it to yourself, as well.  
  
“What’s Chloe’s view on all of this?” Kevin asks.  
  
“I haven’t told her.” You reply reluctantly.  
  
“You haven’t told her?!” Another sigh and a few seconds of silence from Kevin’s part cause you to feel even worse about that. “Beca, you’re rushing into things. You’re making this decision just for the sake of making a decision. Do me a favor, talk to Chloe about this, talk to your dad, talk to everyone. I called Brandon this morning, he said he wants you there the Monday after spring break. That means you have a week, okay? Just take your time and think about this. If you still don’t want this after that, I swear I’ll never mention it again.”  
  
Kevin sounds reasonable, but you know you’ve made up your mind and you don’t think you’ll change it back any time soon.  
  
Nevertheless, you go see your father that Sunday. He has never been a fan of your plans to leave for California and you figured talking to him would only make you feel more certain about your decision.  
  
_Education is important. Stability is important. Making music is a hobby, not a career.  
_  
You had heard those so many times, again and again, that you were expecting them. You could practically hear them fall out of your father’s mouth, except they didn’t.  
  
“You did? That’s amazing, honey!”  
  
“What?” You snap back surprised and borderline hostile.  
  
Your father laughs before sipping on his hot coffee. “How did someone in LA find you?” He asks interested.  
  
“Oh, I guess he saw some videos of me.”  
  
“The internet these days..” Your dad sighs, both astonished and insulting. “Well I have to say, I’m sad to see you go, Beca.”  
  
“Why would you just assume I’m taking the offer?” You reply agitated that no one seems to bother to ask you what you want to do.  
  
“Because this is all you’ve been talking about for the last decade, perhaps even longer. I wasn’t there when you said your first word, your mother told me it was _‘momma’_ , but I have had my doubts about that.” Your father laughs. “My point is, I always knew you were moving to Los Angeles at one point. I have tried to slow you down, believe me.” The man chuckles with a heavy heart. “I just wanted to keep you close to me for as long as I could.” He says as he squeezes your knee and disappears to get a refill for his empty mug.  
  
“What about my education? Stability? How I need a real career?” The words leave you quickly and you hate how they make you sound like a little kid, pleading their parent to tell them they can’t go to a party they’re not interested in going anyway.  
  
“All of that is very important, honey. But let’s not forget I’ve seen you in classes. You take more naps than I can count.” Your father speaks judging. “And I couldn’t possibly picture you in an office job of some sort. Perhaps the fact that a big time club owner from another state asks you to work for him tells me I’ve been wrong. You have a better career than I thought.”  
  
You allow your body to give up the fight as you drop to a laid down position on the couch, hiding your face in multiple pillows and groaning over the timing your dad chooses to be supportive.  
  
“What’s wrong, honey?” Your father asks from his chair a few feet away. He lacks the concern and you think you even hear some amusement in his voice.  
  
“I just don’t understand why this is happening right now.” You mumble tiredly as you rub your eyes and return to a normal placement on the sofa.  
  
“Everything happens for a reason, Beca.” Your dad says philosophical. “It’s usually much later on in life that you figure out what that reason is.”  
  
Your father isn’t exactly helping, but he’s trying and you don’t want to bite his head off for that.  
  
“Where does Chloe stand in all of this?” Your dad asks next, truly interested and curious.  
  
“I haven’t necessarily.. used my words to tell her yet.” You hate how awful that fact makes you feel and your father’s preach doesn’t help to make you feel better, either.  
  
You know you have to tell her, but just the very idea of looking at her gorgeous face and telling her you may or may not be thinking about leaving her, kills you.  
  
Somewhere along the way, you made a deal with yourself to never walk away from that girl and you know you’ve broken that pact a few times, but this would be a whole other level of leaving.  
  
You don’t know if you can do it. No matter how tempting that club in LA sounds, it breaks your heart just thinking about the pain you would cause Chloe and you don’t think you could actually go through with it if it would make the girl you love unhappy.  
  
You don’t think you could make yourself physically walk away from her.  
  
You find the girl in question a few hours later when you return from your father’s house and she seems to have just started to prepare dinner.  
  
“Becs!” She yelps before throwing herself around your neck and kissing your cheek. She acts like you’ve been gone for three months which you believe to have been only three hours.  
  
“Wow, easy.” You chuckle, but your hands find her hips and you have no plans at all to push her away from you. “Is this new?” You ask when she leans back and you’re able to get a good look of the girl.  
  
“You like it?” Chloe hums while spinning her way back to the kitchen. She’s wearing a white tank top and denim shorts that hug her tightly and perfectly.  
  
“If I say no, will you take it off?” You flirt as your hands itch to get back in contact with her. The idea of Los Angeles is now only a faint memory, a dream you once had before waking up to Chloe.  
  
“Cute.” Chloe whispers before planting her lips on you, pushing her body against yours for the smallest of seconds before disappearing again. “But that has got to wait.” She winks seductively. “I forgot some stuff, so I’m gonna run to the grocery store. I’ll be right back.” Her lips impact yours again hastily and then she’s out the door.  
  
The feeling you get when she’s gone -even when it’s just to get groceries down the street- leaves you breathless this time. It rips you open and the realization hits you hard.  
  
You don’t like that feeling.  
  
A few knocks on the door prevent your mind from going places you doubt you want it to go.  
  
“Kevin?” You say in a questioning matter, not understanding what he’s doing at your dorm room.  
  
He apologizes firstly. For what, you’re not sure. He seems stressed and uncoordinated. His mouth works fast, but you have trouble focusing on what he’s telling you due to the flexing of his fingers. When you finally start to pay attention to what he’s telling you, you have a hard time making sense of it.  
  
Apparently, he received another call from the head of the club in LA. Even though they told him they want you there a week from now, they’re requesting at the very least an acceptance of their offer, so they can prepare contracts and schedules.  
  
“I have to decide _now_?!” You say rather insulted, not able to appreciate the second round of pressure they put on you.  
  
“Not now.” Kevin corrects. “Before the end of the day.” He shrugs apologetic as if that makes it any better.  
  
“Then the answer is no.” You say angry. If they won’t respect the fact that this is an important step for you, they can look for someone else. You don’t need them. You have Kevin and you could bet his club is way better than that jerk’s in California.  
  
“Beca, don’t take this the wrong way.”  
  
“How should I take it then?”  
  
“It’s just business. They’re not trying to personally attack you. This is just the way things go.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter.” You say with clenched teeth. “I wasn’t planning on going anyway.” You hear the words echoing back to you and you’re not sure if it’s a lie or not.  
  
But if this is going to be your decision, you’re going to have to make sure your boss understands, even just a little. You’re going to have to drop the angry attitude and fully support your choice.  
  
“There are things that I care about here. I don’t need some fancy club in LA, okay? I am happy working for you and-“  
  
“No.” Kevin interrupts. His head is down and he seems defeated. His eyes dart the room a few times before he licks his lips and deeply inhales air in through his nose. His demeanor changes, within the blink of the eye, he’s strong and collected again. “I can’t have someone work for me who’s settling. I might not have made a name for myself in a big state, but I’ve worked my ass off for this meaningless, little nightclub in Louisiana. And I refuse to let you use it as a getaway, because you’re too scared to go after what you want.”  
  
“I’m not scared!” You yell as the man manages to restore the fire inside of you.  
  
“You are! You’ve spent nights talking to me about LA, Beca. And now that it’s waiting for you, suddenly you’re too good for it, is that it? You think your father, your friends, _Chloe_ would want you to settle for them?”  
  
“Don’t you act like you know what they want.” You groan, unappreciative of the man bringing your girlfriend into this.  
  
“Well I know what I want. I refuse to be your backup plan.” Kevin sighs.  
  
“It’s not working, Kev. You can’t guilt me into going to LA.”  
  
“Then tell me why. Give me one good reason and I’ll shut up!”  
  
“I don’t owe you an explanation!”  
  
Your eye gets drawn to the door behind the man you’re in conversation with. The creaking sound and Chloe’s whisper of your name squeezes the life out of you. You feel everything inside of you shrink and you wish you could, too. You would do anything to be as small as you feel right now, so perhaps you’d be unable to see the look on both of their faces.  
  
Now, you doubt you’d ever forget.  
  
Kevin gives the impression of a broken man. He looks at you the way a disappointed father would. Somehow, it feels like that as well.  
  
But Chloe’s eyes are filled with confusion and concern, and you know the time has come to tell her what’s been going on. You’re afraid of how she will react. You’re afraid of the level of pain her face will show when you tell her. You’re afraid this will be the kind of thing she can’t forgive you for keeping from her.  
  
But you will have to swallow your fears and confess.  
  
Perhaps it will hurt her. Perhaps it will do much more than that, but you can spend your days making it up to her, because you’re not leaving.  
  
You’ve made up your mind.

* * *

/

* * *

  
  
After a quick run to the store across the street, you return to your food that’s waiting to be cooked. Almost immediately upon entering the building you live in, you can hear voices screaming. You could recognize one of them anywhere, like picking a perpetrator from a line of a thousand lookalikes.  
  
The other one is a little harder to identify.  
  
You reckon the voice belongs to a man, but you don’t know anyone who could be arguing with Beca like that. You urge your feet to move a little faster, not necessarily out of worry, but because the argument seems to reach its boiling point and you have an itching feeling you should be there when that happens.  
  
The two people in the room don’t notice you opening the door, but Beca finds you as soon as you step inside.  
  
“Beca.” You state a little worried as you stay frozen where you are. “Is everything alright?” You ask concerned when you realize she’s in the middle of a verbal fight with her manager.  
  
“Everything is fine.” Beca speaks through gritted teeth. “Kevin was just leaving.” She orders the man with subtlety and her words seem to have an effect as you watch her manager head for the door with Beca closely following him, as if she believes he needs the escort.  
  
You feel excluded, but you don’t know from what.  
  
You’re right here and so is Beca, but something is going on around you and it feels important, even if you have no idea what information you’re missing out on.  
  
“If you don’t take this offer, I can’t have you work for me anymore, Beca. You’re fired.” Kevin speaks with a certain sadness in his voice.  
  
“I guess I’m fired, then.” Beca shoots back angry before slamming the door closed.  
  
You don’t know what’s going on, but you’ve never seen Beca’s manager this upset and you don’t know what reason he could possibly have for firing her.  
  
“Beca, what’s going on? Why would he say you’re fired?”  
  
“Nothing.” You hear a mumble coming from the closet that Beca disappeared into as fast as she could.  
  
“Beca!”  
  
“It’s nothing.” Your girlfriend appears again and you can see the aftermath of her fight with the man she considers a father figure. Her eyes are bloodshot and it’s hard for her to fake a proper smile. “I refused an offer he wanted me to take, so now he’s angry.”  
  
“What was the offer?” You ask, but Beca ignores both your glare as your words. “Beca!” You urge again.  
  
“Just this guy who wants me to work for him.” Beca speaks coldly as she brushes past you and opens an energy drink.  
  
“I don’t understand. Why would he want you to work for someone else? He loves you like a daughter, Beca. He wants what’s best for you. Unless this job is in _LA_ ,-“ You mock, “-I don’t get why-“ But the look on Beca’s face – a mixture of guilt and concern- causes the rest of your sentence to drown out and you have to swallow thickly to remove it completely, including the smile you were wearing just a few seconds ago. “The job is in LA?” You ask with an ache in your chest, painfully aware of the answer, but still feeling the need to ask for confirmation.  
  
The look on Beca’s face says everything and for a second, you feel the ground beneath your feet giving way, sinking rapidly and perhaps taking you down with it. You refuse to let that happen as you focus on all of the other emotions rushing through your body, specifically the positive ones.  
  
“It doesn’t matter, because I’m not going.” Beca states determined.  
  
“Oh my God, you got a job offer from a club in LA?!” You say with mixed feelings as you hug the girl –your girl- to your chest. You could not be more proud of Beca accomplishing her number one dream, but the pain you feel inside is indescribable and you hate how selfish that hurt feels.  
  
“I’m not going!” Beca tells you stubborn without hugging you back, but she stays in your embrace and that’s good enough for you.  
  
“Of course you’re going!” The tears come without warning and you can hear them impacting the back of Beca’s shirt. “I am so proud of you, Becs.” You manage to tell her honestly in between sniffs and you try to control your breathing, but you simply can’t.  
  
Beca pulls away from you and reaches out to dry your face with her thumbs. It looks like she might be saying something, but all you hear is your own heart beating, the rush of blood pumping loudly through your ears and the quick way in which your lungs ache for air.  
  
“I’m just so happy.” You say with a smile that hurts to form while waving your hands in front of your face to evaporate the teardrops that don’t stop falling. You hope your words will make Beca believe that’s the reason for your outburst, even if it’s in fact a completely more selfish reason. “Tell me everything!” You say quickly as you drag your girlfriend with you to the beds, unable to handle Beca and her sympathetic eyes staring at you for another second.  
  
“I guess there’s this guy in LA who saw footage of me playing New Year’s Eve and he called Kevin. But it doesn’t matter, because I’m not going.” Beca speaks persistent. “I mean, why would I go?” She scoffs, but her smile is painful and you can hear the plea behind her words.  
  
For the sake of everything, you have to push your personal emotions –good or bad- to the side and give Beca what she needs. It seems she has forgotten how much she has always wanted this. The desperation you see in her pupils begs you to take care of her fears. “I know it’s scary, Becs.” You allow your hand to find hers, even if you’re unsure whether this would be the right time for physical contact. “But this is your dream.”  
  
“Maybe I have other dreams now.”  
  
“No.” You chuckle at your adorable, grumpy girlfriend. “This is your _crazy_ dream. Everyone has one. Mine is performing at the World Championships of Acapella. A huge stage in a European country, thousands of people in the audience dancing and singing along to an original song.”  
  
“The World Championships?” Beca says judging with an eyebrow shooting up, a smile forming on her face that’s finally real again.  
  
“My point is,-“ You continue while trying not to let Beca’s laugh effect your speech. “-most of us never get a chance at our crazy dream. And that’s okay, because we understand that it’s too unrealistic to ever happen.” You state simply, allowing Beca to fill in the blanks herself.  
  
The girl sighs with a slight shake of her head before speaking again. “What you’re saying is, I owe it to myself to go?”  
  
“No.” You fake your seriousness. “You owe it to all of us who will never get a chance at our crazy dream.” You get ahold of a pillow and crash it into the back of Beca’s head.  
  
“Ah! Is that necessary?” Beca complains, and you answer by hitting her with it again. “Okay, okay!” The girl surrenders, and for a second there, everything is like before. She’s laughing and you’re okay. But her smile quickly fades and the sadness in her eyes reappears.  
  
“Why wouldn’t you go, Becs?” You ask truly interested in her reasoning behind thinking that. It seems to you, she’s been drowning in her resistance for a while now and you’d like to know all of the things her mind came up with.  
  
“I just don’t see what would be the point.” Beca mumbles, and though you might not understand her words, you’re positive it makes sense to Beca. “Trying to make this college thing work.” The girl breathes out heavy. “Trying to help Aubrey and the Bellas win. Reconnecting with my dad.” She finally finds your eyes and they show you guilt. Of what, you don’t know. But she rolls them before you can figure it out, swallows hard to remove any saliva or possible lumps in her throat and she continues. “Us. What would be the point of us if I leave now?”  
  
It’s clear to you that Beca needs reassurance, but you’re not sure you can answer that question for her.  
  
Not right now. Perhaps not ever.  
  
“The point is that you _can_.” You speak determined, suppressing all of the emotions that are running through your mind and body. “You _can_ succeed in college and you _can_ –and will- lead the Bellas to a victory, whether you’ll be around or not. And you _can_ reconnect with your father.”  
  
Beca looks at you, her eyes a little glassy, but maybe you’re seeing what you want to see. She’s awaiting your answer to her final question, the only one you couldn’t possibly give her an ensuring reaction to.  
  
“I don’t know if relationships should have a point, Beca.” You say honestly, trying hard to control your bottom lip, but it’s already shaking and after that realization, it’s easier to let the tears flow without a fight. “I just know that they have a beginning and sometimes they have an end.”  
  
“No, this is bullshit.” Beca speaks with a shake of her head and you see her angrily wiping the back of her hand over her left eye, getting confirmation that her pain wasn’t simply imagined by you. Somehow, that makes you feel a little better. “I don’t want this to end.”  
  
Her words might be aimed at you, but her body language isn’t. She’s faced away from you with her hands clenched into one another, but her sentence still finds its way into your chest and manages to pull at whatever it can find.  
  
“Even if I do end up going,-“  
  
“You _are_ going.” You state determined. You’re not letting your relationship with the girl get in the way of everything she’s ever wanted. The look on Beca’s face finally tells you she has accepted that.  
  
“-You could come with me!” Beca pitches with newfound hope. “You’re this close to graduating. I’m sure there are more people in California willing to buy your paintings than there are right here.”  
  
Your girlfriend might be right and a part of you is dreaming of a life with Beca in Los Angeles as she speaks, but you know you can’t. You might not know what you’re doing with your life post-graduation, but you’re going to graduate and that’s all you need to know right now.  
  
“Beca, I think this is something you have to experience on your own. Everything is going to change for you and I don’t want you to miss out on anything. You should be able to be spontaneous and go to dinner or have drinks with your new coworkers and friends without having to worry about our weekly Skype dates.”  
  
Beca scoffs like a moody kid that’s been denied a candy bar before dinner. “So this is it, then?” She says in disbelief with a shake of her head as she’s dodging your gaze.  
  
“When do you leave?” You ask instead of giving her an answer. You’ve realized there’s nothing you can do to make Beca feel better about this situation, because you refuse to give her false hope.  
  
“Next week.” The girl mumbles. It’s the first time since your conversation that Beca’s confirming her departure and it leaves you rather empty. “I should probably go find Kevin.” She states as she rises to her feet and after you give her a small nod, she disappears through the door and you can’t help but feel she’s already left you, fully packed and never coming back.

* * *

  
  
The following couple of days pass without as much as a real conversation between you and your girlfriend. Beca keeps busy with meeting Aubrey and discussing what would have to happen in order to provide a win for the Bellas. You think they’re making progress, but you can’t say you’re as invested in the female group as much as you were a week ago.  
  
The girls have been devastated by the news of Beca’s departure, but Stacie and Amy have been making sure to make the most out of the remaining time they have with her, unlike what you’ve been doing.  
  
They make dinner plans and bars to go to after. And it’s fun. It’s like it has always been and how it’s supposed to be.  
  
Yet when you and Beca make it back home alone, not a word is spoken and definitely not a smile is shared. Beca’s been distant ever since your conversation. Maybe she doesn’t see a reason to try anymore. Maybe her head is already in California, because she seems miles away and out of reach.  
  
And it’s like your dorm room has become this depressive hole where reality is forced to set in. You can’t get Beca to talk to you, at least not about things that actually matter, unless you get mad at her.  
  
Now, getting mad at Beca is not a bad thing. Usually she even likes it when you yell at her over dirty dishes or being late to Bellas practices. This time, it’s only to provoke a reaction.  
  
(And perhaps just to do something other than cry.)  
  
You yell at her for keeping the job offer a secret and in return, she explains she needed the time to think about what she wanted. You tell her about the feelings she has hurt, and she tells you about her feelings.  
  
A dirty mixture of sadness, happiness, fright and excitement.  
  
You’re glad she finally shares some insights into her head about the situation, because it makes you understand her better. You will fake anger any day just to power through her risen walls and you’d have to admit, it feels good to get some of your own feelings out in the open.  
  
Even though silence returns every time, Beca remains close. You understand now that certain situations don’t require words. They just require presence.

* * *

  
  
You would ask her if she’s packed everything, but her bags have been ready since last night and you know everything that belongs to Beca is in those bags.  
  
You try not to think about that too much, because you’ve cried enough these last couple of days and you doubt you’d ever stop if you start now.  
  
Your girlfriend, -perhaps already ex-girlfriend- is seated in front of you, waiting for the message that her cab has arrived and will be taking her to the airport and far away from you.  
  
You had considered driving her to the airport, or at the very least joining her to say goodbye. But it feels like you’ve said your goodbyes a week ago and it would only make things more awkward.  
  
“It’s weird having these beds apart from each other again.” Beca whispers with a sympathetic smile on her face.  
  
Both of you had decided to put the room back to the way it was in case a new roommate was assigned to you for these last few weeks. Even though you doubt that would happen, it was a relief in a way. To see that the room could return to its original state without Beca there.  
  
Perhaps you could, too.  
  
“It says the taxi is ten minutes out. I should probably go and wait on the curb.” Beca speaks again, this time louder and heavier. She doesn’t await your response as she rises to her feet and flings the bags onto her shoulders.  
  
You’re forced to watch the girl you love get ready to leave you and for once in your life, you have no idea what to do or what to say. Even if you did, you feel paralyzed and incapable of forming words right now.  
  
So you just watch.  
  
“Let’s not do this whole emotional goodbye thing, okay? I’ve already had that with Kevin.” Beca complains grumpy, and it makes you smile, because it’s so _Beca_. It’s the Beca that walked into your dorm room that very first time, ignoring your very existence just out of convenience. It’s the Beca that explained your new relationship status instead of asking you. It’s the moody girl you fell in love with. And now she’s going to leave you the exact way she came.  
  
Because that’s Beca.  
  
_Your_ Beca.  
  
The girl that will probably never change entirely, but manages to surprise you with little things.  
  
“Beca? Are you hugging me?” You ask for the sake of hearing her laugh one more time.  
  
As her laughter dies out, you hear her sigh ever so silently, and you remember you should savor this moment before it’s gone. Take in her smell one more time. Feel her body pressed against yours one last time.  
  
And then she’s gone.  
  
“I’ll see you later.” Beca says calmly as she backs out of the room. You wonder how she can be so composed yet you’re panicking inside. You go over the dictionary in your mind, wondering which word mixed with which would prevent her from walking out that door.  
  
But all of them fall short and before you realize it completely, Beca has made it through the opening and she’s out of sight before the door has even closed entirely.  
  
A breath of wind caused by the shutting of the door knocks the air right out of you and no matter how deeply you inhale, you can’t get your lungs to inflate. Together with every other organ inside of you, it seems they have stopped working.  
  
“Fuck it.” The door flings back open with Beca reentering the room. “I guess we are doing this.”  
  
You know damn well Beca isn’t a doctor, but she managed to revive you, using her given tools to bring you back to life.  
  
“I don’t even want this to end, but it definitely can’t end like this.” Beca says before stepping closer and pushing her lips against yours.  
  
“It’s not the end.” You whisper as if the room is filled with people who want to listen in on your conversation.  
  
Beca puts some distance between the two of you to stare at your face. She looks at you as if you’ve just changed your mind and you are in fact coming with her.  
  
“We’ll text and call each other, right?” You speak and Beca’s face loses its hope and you hate to disappoint her one last time. “You’re my best friend, Beca. Nothing can change that. And maybe one day we’ll be able to pick up where we left off.”  
  
“Why?” Beca asks with a small scoff and a playful smile on her lips. “So we can turn into one of Jesse’s movies? Three years from now we’ll run into each other at the Target dollar aisle or you’ll be the one in front of me in the line of Taco Bell. We’ll fall into conversation and I’ll realize every relationship I’ve had in those three years has been meaningless and I’ve been waiting for you all along while you tell me you can’t have dinner with me that night because you have a date planned with your husband.”  
  
“That’s very detailed. How many movies has Jesse forced you to watch?” You laugh. “Not to mention how completely unrealistic it is.” You state and the shimmer in Beca’s eyes reminds you that you’re okay. Or at least you will be. “I would never stand in line at Taco Bell. I would make my husband stand in line for me.”  
  
“Right. Of course.” Beca jokes along. “So the dollar aisle in three years, say..” Beca checks her phone to enhance her performance. “-Three in the afternoon?”  
  
“Perfect. It’s a date.”  
  
Slowly, the fun drips off the situation and seriousness returns to both of your faces. Beca looks sad and unsure what to do, yet she remains near the door with her bags lifted from the floor.  
  
“You’re going to do great things, Becs.” You’re surprised by the handful of seconds it takes for the lump in your throat to return.  
  
Beca smiles at you, sincerely and gratefully. She steps closer, her fingers touching your cheeks as her eyes dart around your face. You fall in love a little more in that moment, which is ironic, you think.  
  
You let your head hang just a little, but enough for her to move in. Her lips make contact with yours, lightly. You can taste tears, but you’re not sure whose they are. Maybe they belong to the both of you.  
  
“I love you.” Beca whispers. Her eyes stay locked on yours for a fraction of a second and then, just like she entered your life, fast and life-changing, she’s gone.  
  
You could have never predicted the first time Beca would actually use those words, inform you of that fact in a loving and calm way, would also be the time she breaks your heart entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.. Yeah.. I feel like I should've informed you guys a little earlier on that I'm not the kind of writer who writes happy endings. Sorry?
> 
> In my own defense -even though I've just called myself out on it- I don't think this isn't a happy end. It is, in a way. This story was always going to end like this. This has been the only ending I've ever had in my head for over 18 months of writing this crazy story. I hope you all can find your peace with it.
> 
> That being said, I feel like I can heal you guys' pain of this chapter with the knowledge that there will be a sequel.
> 
> I don't know when.
> 
> Could be a week from now, could be a month from now, could be a year from now.
> 
> All I know is that Beca and Chloe's story isn't over yet and I have many ideas on how to continue this! It's just a matter of how much time I'll have to write my thoughts out and how motivated I can stay about this story. The latter shouldn't be much of an issue, but honestly, you never know.
> 
> So yeah, I don't know how this is going to go, but make sure you're like.. idk, followed to this story? Or to me? (I feel like a YouTuber, this is weird.) Because the sequel might just be up sooner than you think, -sooner than I think, perhaps haha. Maybe I'll write a new little something first, because this has been the only thing I've written in a long time. But it's also a very real possibility that I can't write anything but the sequel to this haha.
> 
> Anyway, if you guys have any suggestions, let me know. I'm willing to change things up in the second part of this story. Do you wanna stick to the second-person narrative? Do you prefer third person? The reason I did Faces in the second-person was because it was a challenge to do so, but I feel unbiased regarding future works. If you guys think the second-person thing is important to this story, I'll keep it that way, but I'm also fine writing the sequel in the third-person. Maybe Chloe's pov in one chapter, Beca's pov in the next? Let me know!
> 
> -Remember when I said I was a woman of few words? I know, I feel lied to as well.-
> 
> In all honesty, I can't thank y'all enough for the amount of support and love shown for this little fanfic. You guys' comments have more than once been the reason for me to open up my laptop to write this crap. This is the first time I've actually, legitimately finished a multichapter fanfic the way I've wanted to, and I'm extremely happy with it.
> 
> I hope to see you all at the sequel!


End file.
